And Then There Were Two
by Iggycat
Summary: A compilation of short stories centered around a stingy Brit and heroic American. USUK
1. Lost

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rights go to the respected owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_A/N: Hey everyone! This story is actually just going to be a compilation of very short stories. I write short works every once in awhile, sometimes for events, requests, friends, or even if I just have a spur of the moment idea. These have all been posted on either my tumblr account, or my livejournal, but I thought it might be helpful to consolidate them here for those of you who don't follow me on those other sights. Anyway, hope you like them!_

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> Lost

**Warnings:** Implied sex

**Summary:** Arthur takes a wrong turn that leads him to the love of his life.

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><p>You'd be surprised how hard it is to keep up a long distance relationship. The letters, emails, web chats and virtual hugs are never really enough. I find it shocking, every time I think about it, that my love lives halfway around the world and yet I have so much faith in him. His name is Alfred; Alfred F. Jones. My first thought was that that name wasn't terribly romantic, but it's grown on me. Shouting it out in bed will do that to you.<p>

Anyway, I'm in love with Alfred who lives on a small family ranch in the-middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma. We actually met by coincidence once, as I was studying abroad in the United States. During my summer break, I'd decided to try and take a cross country drive that so many Americans insist on taking. After all, how hard could it be to follow the interstate all the way from Los Angeles to Florida? Easy, right? No. apparently being good at navigating the M1 did nothing to help me plot the American roads. I'd made a wrong turn somewhere, or perhaps I missed a sign, but I wound up off the main road, with nothing but plains alongside me. Long story short, I was lost, and as much as I told myself I wouldn't ask for directions, I wound up pulling up to a ranch that I'd circled at least three times. Perhaps the owner could direct me to the interstate.

Knocking on the door was quite unnerving, after all I had no idea where I was and I felt like I was imposing. Not soon after, a young man, blonde and tanned to perfection answered the door. His eyes looked like the vast American sky, cloudless and clear blue. I momentarily lost thought as I just stared at him.

"Hey there, stranger," he smiled at me kindly, like we were long lost friends. "Something I can help ya with?"

I nodded and shyly motioned to my car.

"Ah yes, well-"

But I never got to explain myself, because my future lover's eyes twinkled with bemusement.

"You're British!"

I felt my cheeks flush just a tad, and smiled shyly.

"I am, yes. Born and raised in Manchester."

His grin rose like the sun, and set across his face. He grabbed at my hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Well great to meet someone from so far away! The name's Alfred, Alfred F. Jones."

I couldn't help but return his smile as I shook his hand.

"Arthur Kirkland. Charmed."

That's basically how I met Alfred; an accident, a wrong turn on the pathway of life. He did wind up giving me directions, but when he invited me inside for some beverages we took the first step toward a relationship that neither one of us knew would become incredibly strong. Drinks turned into staying the night, and Alfred insisted that since there was no one in the guest room, and he rarely got any visitors, why not stay the week? So I did, because not only was the accommodation free, but Alfred was great company. We'd talk and listen, and I'd get a perspective I'd never once thought about before. Also, Alfred wasn't exactly an eyesore, so I didn't have a problem when he asked if I'd extend the visit from just one week to two. I agreed, and realized that time does really fly when you're enjoying yourself.

"Ya wanna try and milk, Bessie?" Alfred had asked me on my last day of my five-minute-turned-fortnight stay with him. "Though, she might not take ya seriously in that get up."

He looked me up and down and I could feel my cheeks heat. It didn't help that it was nearly 90 degrees Fahrenheit out, and the outfit Alfred was referring to consisted of black trousers, a white dress shirt, sweater vest and tie. It was the only thing I'd packed.

"Oh hush up," I'd answered, and he smiled and waved me over. He got up from his stool and told me to sit down.

"Alright redcoat," he replied cheekily, though with no harm intended. "So you're gonna grab one utter like this," he demonstrated. "And squeeze strong, but gentle, got it?"

I could feel my face reddening again but I ignored it. I reached for an utter, grasped it firmly and started to squeeze, but before I could get too far:

"No, no, Artie, you're doin' it all wrong," Alfred said as he laid his large calloused hands over my own. "Gotta squeeze gently," he encouraged as he clutched my hand slowly and squeezed.

Something inside of me hit its breaking point, and I shot up from the stool. I'd tried to run, so Alfred wouldn't catch sight of the slight problem I was having in my trousers, but before I could get to the barn door, he caught me. I'm not sure whether I was shocked, exhilarated or just plain delighted, when Alfred turned me around and caught my lips. We didn't talk about what we were doing, for there was no time for words. He ripped off my tie and vest, and the buttons that were once attached to my shirt went flying. I aided in pulling his shirt up over his head, and sometime in between our trousers went missing. Somehow the evening had gone from milking a cow to making love in the farmhouse long into the night.

That morning I woke up in a bed of straw, Alfred's limbs tangled amongst mine. He was up already, and had a bright grin on his face as he lent forward and kissed me. It should have been much more awkward than this. I should have been scrambling to put some clothes on, or trying to fuse together some type of excuse, but Alfred's smile and warm skin put me so at ease, I felt perfectly content naked and covered in hay.

Late that afternoon, after a light lunch (after a relatively heavy night) I had to wish Alfred goodbye. As much as I'd wanted to stay with the man, my holiday was over and I had to head back. It really did kill me a bit inside as I told him it was unlikely I'd be back.

"We're on the quarter system, and I've only got nine or so weeks left before I have to go back to England."

He frowned, but then took my hand and led me to my long forgotten car.

"Well that's alright, we can write each other letters," he smiled hopefully. "And I've got this computer I've been meaning to set up back in the house," he squeezed my hand tight. "Oh! One more thing before you go." Alfred let go of my hand and smiled warmly. "It's a tradition out here that I give ya something to remember me by."

I cocked my head and protested.

"No, that's quite alright. You really don't have to give me anythi-"

But I stopped talking halfway through as Alfred pulled off his baggy, plaid shirt. I thought perhaps he was up for one last round before I left, but I realized that wasn't it when he handed the clothing to me.

"It's not much," Alfred smiled and laughed. "But it's yours to remember me by."

I didn't know what to say or do, and the first thing that came to my mind was to return the pleasure. I reached up and undid my silk tie, pulling it over my head. I felt a little silly as I handed it to him.

"Ehm… and for you, to remember your redcoat by."

Alfred let out his happy rumbles of laughter that I'd gotten so accustomed to over the past two weeks. A smile broke out on his face which was quickly reciprocated on mine.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, Arthur, I'm really glad you got lost."

I smiled at him and he grinned back.

"Me too, Alfred, me too."


	2. Lights, Camera, Action

_A/N: Aw guys thanks for all the reviews, favorites, alerts, etc. I have a bunch of these stockpiled so I hope you continue to like them! They vary in length by the way, but they're pretty much all around 1,000 words._

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> Lights, Camera, Action

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred just cannot seem to get this scene right, and the director is not impressed.

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><p>"Cut!"<p>

Oh God, again? This is the 23rd time we've done this scene, and still he doesn't like it.

"Jones," he calls to me. I put down the bouquet of fake flowers and walk over to him.

"Yeah?"

"What the hell was that?"

He makes a motion with his hand up and down my body but I'm not really sure what it means. I'm caught up staring at his turtleneck sweater and long khaki pants. Isn't he hot? All the set lights shining down make it absolutely sweltering in the stage building, and the fact that we have no AC running adds insult to injury.

"Did you hear anything I just said, Jones?" he speaks through the megaphone, and I have to cover my ears from the sound.

"Dude, Arthur! Alright, alright, sorry I wasn't paying attention."

I send him a pout and he seems satisfied with himself as he puts the megaphone down. He glances at me momentarily and then leans forward to adjust my tie. I can feel myself heat up at his touch, not that there's a reason behind it mind you! Superstar Alfred F. Jones is forever sexy and single; at least that's what my French agent tells me. If I had a special someone I would ruin the hopes of a good 90% of my hormonal teenage girl fan base.

He leans back and puts his hands on his hips. I'm given a once over, and when he's satisfied, he heads back over to his hot-shot directors chair and takes a seat.

"Ready on the set!" he calls, and we all take our positions. I pick up the flowers. "Action!"

I walk up the steps to my fake-girlfriend's fake-house and I ring the bell. She answers, and a moment later is swimming in fake-tears.

"Wayne!" she exclaims pitifully and throws her arms around me. "They said you were dead!"

"I know, I know," I whisper quietly in her ear. "But I'm not. I'm here, flesh and blood. And now we can be together."

My fake-girlfriend leans back with teary eyes. I smile gently and lean in to kiss her. Our lips meet slowly and then-

"CUT!"

I pull back in a frenzy and sigh at the director. He's walking over to me again, with his hoighty toighty strut, and those _really_ tight khaki trousers. Someone seriously needs to turn on the AC in here.

"Jones!" he's standing right in front of me now, and I glance down since I'm just a teensy bit taller than him.

"Yeah?"

"That was absolutely horrible! I said passion! I don't know what the hell that rubbish you just put on was, but it certainly wasn't passion!"

My cheeks heat under his intense gaze and I honestly don't know what to say.

"I- Well it's just-"

"Must I do everything round here?" he says rather indignantly and grabs my collar. "I'll just have to show you myself."

He pulls me down and kisses me.

His lips are slightly chapped, as opposed to mine which are moist from a hundred different varieties of lip makeup I have on. His kiss is sweet and gentle, but it's also harsh and needy. I feel myself pushing back against his lips as he wraps an arm around my neck. I kind of want to stay like that forever, but gosh it just got really hot in here, and I need to breath. I pull away hesitantly and start panting like a dog. I want more, expect more, but when I lean again all I get from the director is a sly smile.

"Great. Now if you could only do that in front of the camera."

He walks away but I'm caught up staring at his turtleneck sweater and the way his ass looks tight in those khaki pants.

"Quiet on the set!" he calls and we make eye contact one last time. He reaches for the megaphone and I'm ready for him call action.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

"Everybody take five," he says out of nowhere. "Jones needs to take a cold shower."

I look down at my own pair of khakis and suddenly realize they're way too tight.

Shit.

Someone really ought to turn the AC on.


	3. Eternal Gratitude

_A/N: This is story is really an aberration for me. It is not fluffy in the slightest, and actually is quite depressing. I'll be uploading a fluffy story simultaneously with this one so you may choose to skip over it if you'd like._

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> Eternal Gratitude

**Warnings:** There is a method of torture in this story. I tried to not make it too descriptive, but still accurate. It's something that really was done to people in colonial America, and other places as well throughout history.

**Summary:** Alfred is called upon to protect a fellow citizen in colonial Boston.

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><p>"Alfred slow down! You know mother told us not to run in the streets, it tarnishes our reputation."<p>

Matthew struggled to keep up with his brother's pace as they made their way through the cobbled streets of Boston. It was still early, about eight in the morning, and the sun was just coming up on the harbor.

"Aw come on, Matt! I'm hungry, and the bakery's already been open a few hours; we have to make sure they don't sell out!"

Alfred turned slightly to smile at his brother, but all he received in return was a disgruntled sigh. They were in the heart of town now, near the docks. A few streets ran perpendicular to where the ships were stationed, selling anything and everything the colonies had imported from England. Matthew noticed as his brother slowed down a bit, near the edge of a pier. There seemed to be a small crowd gathered near the water, and as Alfred ran into the fray, his brother followed right behind.

"Alfred, what's going o-"

"Matt, shh. Just listen."

The two brothers stood quietly amongst the horde and watched the spectacle unfolding before them. A ship owner was arguing with another man over something concerning the cargo.

"My good man, I demand you let me aboard your vessel to inspect its load. It is required in the name of the Empire, that all ships to and from the colonies go through customs."

Alfred recognized the man standing on the small wooden bridge connecting the merchant ship to the docks. His name was Arthur Kirkland; a customs official for the British government. It was his duty to ensure no smuggled goods got into the colonies, and for this reason, nearly everyone in Boston hated him. Alfred, being a patriot, did not approve of all the restrictions put in place on the thirteen colonies, but he recognized that Arthur was not to blame. He was simply the messenger of order, fulfilling a job enforced by the government which the colonies detested.

"I see no need for my vessel to be apprehended by this vile government, just as everything else has been!" the merchant ship owner seethed. "Have you no trust in me sir? Are we not both subjects of this Empire?"

The crowd which Alfred and Matthew had joined had grown drastically, and now contained nearly one hundred onlookers. Many of them cheered on the ship-owner, eager to side with anyone else who ostracized the government.

Matthew, the more apprehensive of the two brothers, sensed something was wrong.

"Alfred, I really think we should go before something serious happens."

His brother looked back at him with a small frown.

"But this is history in the making, Matt! Don't you want to watch as it happens?"

"Alfred, I'm really starting to worry that this might get dangerous. You've read the paper, I think it would be best if we g-"

"Sir, it is not for a matter of trust amongst ourselves that I cast doubt upon you. Yet, if you do not allow me to inspect the ship's cargo, I will have no choice but to apprehend you on the grounds of importing smuggled goods."

Arthur was an average man; not too tall, not too short. His blonde hair was plain, and there was nothing special about any single feature. Yet, he stood his ground against the merchant, and for that Alfred admired him.

The mob was getting a bit rowdy as they watched the scene from the docks; yelling and mocking Arthur. Matthew was pulling lightly at Alfred's dark blue coat, a silent request to leave. Alfred though was mesmerized at what was going on and refused to depart just yet.

"Is that so?" the ship owner had spoke again. He looked beyond the customs agent to the crowd gathered at the docks. "He calls me a smuggler when he in fact is the one importing all these blasted regulations!"

The crowd cheered, and Arthur half turned to see a large group of people blocking his only way of exit from the ship.

"He says he'll apprehend me? I say we apprehend _him_!"

The crowd went wild, and suddenly someone from within the mob shouted:

"Tar and feather the bastard!"

Arthur froze, his eyes wide as a million thoughts flew through his head. This wasn't how it was suppose to end; he was just doing his job.

"Alfred we have to go now!" Matthew screamed at his brother but Alfred too was immobilized. He watched as Arthur came unfrozen in time and tried to look for an escape route. There was none, so he took his chances and ran into the heart of the crowd.

"Get him!" someone yelled.

"Boil the tar! Pour it all over him!" shouted another.

"Strip him naked, let him burn!"

Running head first into the mob had been a terrible idea. Arthur had quickly been caught in the crowd that nearly tripled in size since the twins first arrived. Men were on his arms and legs, and everything from his waistcoat to his woolen socks were shredded as they dragged him up to the center square of town. Even completely exposed, Arthur continued to struggle against the grip the men had on him to no avail.

For a moment Alfred caught the look in Arthur's eyes of complete and utter despair, but still the young blonde could not move.

"Alfred! Come on!"

It didn't take long for some men to appear with a tin full of a boiling tar, and another young man came running into the square with a sack of down. The main merchant, with whom this event had started made his way down from his ship to the center of the square. He eyed Arthur victoriously and gave him a swift kick in the gut for good measure. He then turned to the crowd which was excited and continued to egg him on.

"My friends!" he said, and one of the men who had brought down the tar handed him the long wooden block that had been used to stir it. The merchant took it and eyed the end, still covered searing hot tar. "A toast to independence!"

Matthew had given up and fled, but Alfred watched on as the man took his wooden pole and slammed it against Arthur's bare skin. He saw the dark black liquid contrast against the pale skin, and he could almost feel the burning sensation across his own chest. But what hit Alfred, more than the sight of the torture was the sound. When the tar had made contact with Arthur's body he'd let out a cry of agony that struck Alfred to his core. It was such an intense shriek of anguish that it unstuck Alfred's feet, and caused him to run into the center of the square just as three men positioned the remaining tin of tar over Arthur's head.

"Stop this!"

Alfred was standing in the center of the square. He stood between much larger men and Arthur's ashen body, and though his heart beat furiously with fear, he continued to stand his ground.

He was waiting for someone to yell at him to go off and play, that this was no job for a child, but instead a crowd member called:

"That's Jones' son! Let's see what he has to say!"

The rest of the crowd looked at him expectantly, and the men holding the torture weapons put them down if only for a moment. Now more than ever, Alfred thanked God for the fact that his father was an influential member of the Assembly, and most people associated his family name with the patriot cause.

He looked back for a second to see Arthur staring at him. His breathing was erratic as the tar stuck to his skin and contracted against his pores, but his eyes said everything. The fear and despair was still there, but Alfred could see the glimmer of hope and mostly gratitude. Alfred sent him a small reassuring smile and looked back at the crowd.

"Now, you know my father as a member of the Assembly, and one who fights for the patriot cause," the mob was silent, and Alfred struggled to not let his emotions get the best of him in this situation. "Because of that, I have been raised a patriot; I am in love with this land, and I advocate independence just as much as my father. But this," he paused and motioned to Arthur. "This is not the way to go about getting it! Is it not for the reason that the British government has done such horrid things to its colonists that we wish to break free in the first place? What good is it to mimic them with equally grisly actions?"

He paused momentarily, breathing hard and letting his argument sink in. He glanced back at the ship owner who still did not look pleased, but was less livid than before. The crowd had calmed, and Alfred sought out his chance to save a man's life. He knelt down to Arthur and swung his left arm over his shoulders. The green-eyed man was still having trouble moving and breathing from the tar, but he managed to stand with Alfred's support. Alfred directed his attention back to the crowd.

"We will gain independence from the Mother Country," he spoke assuredly and determined. "This land will be free for us, and for future generations, and we will be proud to call ourselves an independent nation.

But... until that time comes, this is not a way to express your resentment of the Empire. On our land of the free, no innocent man shall die."

Alfred swallowed and looked out at the mass of people in front of him. He had nothing left to say to them, and so he turned to the man he was supporting and whispered, "Can you walk?"

"Yes..." Arthur wheezed his answer. "With your support."

Alfred slipped off his coat and wrapped it around Arthur's bare shoulders. Some of the crowd had started to disperse, but much of it was simply still left in shock. Regardless, Alfred saw this as a prime chance to abscond.

"I'll take you to my home. My mother's a nurse and might be able to help you," Alfred said as the pair swiftly made their way out of the city, in spite of Arthur's limping.

"Thank you," Arthur replied, his speech and breathing only slightly improved.

"It's not a problem. Really, she always took care of me when I fell ill as a child and-"

"No, no not for that," Arthur spoke slowly as he turned his head and met Alfred's eyes. "Thank you... for saving my life."

Alfred saw that all the despair had vanished now, replaced completely with a mixture of thankfulness and security. He reflected on what he'd just done, as he'd really gone into it without thinking; it had felt like the right thing to do.

"You're welcome," Alfred finally decided on as he spoke softly. "One man should not fight a battle of nations."

Arthur smiled at him weakly and extended his hand. Alfred didn't quite understand, but he took it anyway.

"The best of luck to you in gaining independence," he shook firmly. " I hope the new country will be ruled by men with heart, just like you."

Alfred smiled gently back at the man who would forever evoke eternal gratitude.

"Thank you."


	4. A Pirate's Life for Me

_Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean anything pertaining to Disneyland. Rights go to the respected owners._

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> A Pirate's Life for Me

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Arthur drags Alfred onto the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland.

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><p>"And then we can hit Tomorrowland, but I know we've gotta go back to Fantasyland cause you probably wanna do the Peter Pan Ride again-"<p>

"Alfred," his boyfriend cut him off, and reiterated his point with a squeeze of the hand. "We're here."

The taller of the two men looked up at the entrance to one of the few dark rides at Disneyland. His smile wavered, as he glanced around the rest of New Orleans Square.

"Why don't we just take the train back to Toontown, instead? That was totally fun! Arthur I bet if we leave now, we'll still catch Mickey-"

"Alfred. You made me ride _A Small World_ simultaneous times whilst you sang along with the dolls. I am picking the blasted ride this time."

The young American swallowed and nodded.

"Alright, no problem Artie. I can totally handle some pirates, yep no problem. No problem at all."

The couple stood in line for a few moments until they were permitted to board a boat. Though Alfred was clearly not thrilled about this ride, he insisted on riding in the front because otherwise "My exceptional heroness would be compromised!" And so the pair of blondes sat tucked in next to each other as the boat started to slowly move forward in the darkness, and a banjo started playing in the distance.

"Artie?" the blue-eyed teenager grabbed onto his partner's hand.

"Yes?"

"I hear voices," he squeezed Arthur's hand as the boat came around a bend. He looked up and almost wet his pants.

"Oh my god, Arthur there's a talking skull, holy crap this is so scary, oh god, oh god, oh god!"

_And mark my word matey, dead men tell no tale._

Alfred held onto Arthur's palm for dear life, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You're a hero, you're a hero, you're a hero- AHHHHHH!"

The whole boat was taken over by Alfred's rather harsh scream as the vessel plunged downward. Alfred took in several deep breaths when they reached the bottom; it hadn't been that bad. Nope, he'd just been exaggerating for the other riders' enjoyment.

_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!_

"Alfred, that had better be water from the ride I'm feeling, and not something else."

The younger of the two flushed a bit, though it was nearly impossible to tell in the darkness.

"It's from the ride," Alfred assured him, but Arthur noticed how he was still holding his hand in a death grip.

And he kept that grip tight for the 15 minute long ride, which Arthur found harmless but Alfred insisted, "Is way too dark, seriously. We're totally going to Adventureland after this."

They disembarked the ride, and Alfred's smile returned tenfold, as if nothing had ever happened. He dragged Arthur into the gift shop where he insisted on buying him a felt pirate had with his name etched into it.

"Looks good, Captain Kirkland!" he smiled from under his own mouse ears that he'd purchased.

Arthur smiled, and he let Alfred drag him on any ride he wanted for the rest of the day. At some point he decided this was the best date Alfred had ever treated him to. After all, it was the happiest place on Earth.


	5. The Perfect Pumpkin

**Title:** The Perfect Pumpkin

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred insists on taking Arthur pumpkin picking.

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><p>"Alfred, honestly, where are you taking me?"<p>

The couple had been on the road for almost three hours now, crossing state lines several times. Day had just broke as Alfred woke up his partner and loaded him into his SUV having planned out the surprise trip.

"You'll see!" was the same reply Alfred had given Arthur every time he asked thus far. "We're almost there."

Arthur rested his elbow on the side door and glanced out the window. At least the landscape was pleasing; rolling hills and farm land as far as the eye could see. There had been little to no civilization for hours.

"Ah, there it is!" Alfred suddenly cried excitedly and Arthur turned back to face front. He eyed his boyfriend for a moment and then caught sight of what he was looking at. Not half a mile down the road there was a sign painted with a bright red arrow pointing down a side street. Arthur read it and groaned.

"Pick your own pumpkins? Really Alfred? Aren't you a bit old for this?"

Alfred's smile only grew as he made the right turn onto the side street. He followed the signs until the paved road became gravel, and the couple watched as the rolling hills turned into a sea of orange before them.

"Aww come on, Arthur! No one's too old to pick pumpkins."

But the Briton begged to differ. The moment he stepped out of the car all he could see were several happy families, all with young children walking up and down the pumpkin patch. He looked on for a moment, watching a young boy as he tried to pick up a pumpkin that was obviously too heavy for him. His father leaned down next to him and scooped up both the boy and the pumpkin. The child squealed with delight, and Arthur couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Don't worry, if you find one that's too heavy for you, I can pick it up no problem," Alfred smiled, as he followed Arthur's gaze and took hold of his hand. The Brit blushed but allowed it. "Now come on! We gotta find the biggest, bestest, most perfect pumpkin on this lot!"

Arthur just shook his head and smiled as Alfred led him through the rows of tangled vines.

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><p>After half an hour, the couple had walked up and down each aisle full of orange bloom. Arthur was toting a little red wagon full of pumpkins of all shapes and sizes, as Alfred led the way holding a pair of pumpkin shears. They were coming round the bend now for what Arthur was pretty sure was a third time.<p>

"Love, we've been up and down these aisles nearly three times now," he spared a glance at Alfred then motioned to the radioflyer. "I think we have a good harvest, no?"

Alfred didn't look back at him but just kept on walking. He had his eye trained on the fields and looked determined to find something amongst them.

"Artie, I told ya. I'm not leaving till I find the best pumpkin in this patch, and it's really close, I can feel it."

Arthur sighed, and made a quiet "umf" sound as he bumped into his sweetheart. He hadn't realized that Alfred stopped walking.

"It's really close now, Arthur. I can feel it."

Alfred took a step forward and frowned. He turned right, but frowned again.

"I hadn't realized you had pumpkin senses," Arthur said while rolling his eyes, and this piqued Alfred's attention. He dropped his shears and turned around. A huge smile spread across his face.

"There he is!" Alfred ran forward, and scooped Arthur into a hug. The later yelped faintly as his boyfriend swung him around several times before replacing him on the ground.

"Alfred, what on Earth do you think you're do-"

But he was cut off with a kiss. It wasn't long and hot and intimate, but rather passionate and overwhelmingly sweet. Alfred pulled back and simply stared at his boyfriend with what Arthur could only describe as utter adoration.

"What was that for?" Arthur finally managed to mumble as his cheeks brightened and a small smile crept its way onto his lips.

Alfred beamed at Arthur and pulled him into an embrace.

"I just found my most precious pumpkin."


	6. And Found

**Title:** And Found

**Warnings:** More implied sex

**Summary:** The sequel to _Lost_. Alfred pops in for a surprise visit.

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><p>Ugh God... my phone was going off at one in the morning? What the hell did I do to deserve this? I crawled out from under my warm bed, mumbling obscenities as I groped around my night table for the blasted mobile.<p>

"H-hullo?" I answered groggily, not even checking who it was. If it wasn't an emergency, I was going to track down whoever was on the end of the line and bloody murder the-

"Artie!"

My eyes burst open at the sound of his voice and I suddenly scrambled for some clothes (as I was completely undressed). It was dumb, I realized afterwards, considering Alfred was on another continent when he called me, and not in my bedroom. I paused with my trousers halfway up and replied.

"Alfred?"

"The one and only! Art ya won't believe where I am right now."

I sighed and sat down on the edge of my bed.

"If it's not the hospital, you're going to be there the next time I see you."

The laugh that followed never ceased to make me smile. I was beaming like an idiot right then, even though I'm sure Alfred just called to tell me something silly. He'd probably have some funny story, like that one of the cows had wondered off and gotten its head stuck in the chicken coop or something, and he'd just forgotten the time difference between America and England. Either way, with a laugh like that, I couldn't stay mad at him for long.

"Art, you're such a joker," he commented and smiled. "But guess again! This is fun."

I rolled my eyes even though Alfred obviously couldn't see the gesture.

"I don't know, the grocer? Love, you do realize you've rung me at a ludicrous hour."

I could hear small breaths from the other end of the line as Alfred presumably stopped to think.

"Aw shucks! I always get that mixed up, specially since it's only eight here in Boston!"

"Yes, and love, I know you mean well, but- Wait a moment, Boston?

Alfred made some peculiar ringing and booming noises through the phone as if I'd just won a game show.

"You got it, Art! I'm in Boston!"

I asked the question I knew he was waiting for.

"Why on Earth are you in Boston?"

"Well I had to transfer planes somewhere!"

"Transfer planes- Alfred, what on Earth are you going on about?"

"Crap, Artie, they're telling me I gotta hang up now. I'll see you in London in seven hours!"

"Wait what? Alfred, don't you dare hang up this pho-"

The dial tone. Blast all. So my much missed boyfriend had planned a trip to London without even discussing it with me? That was lovely, minus the fact that he completely forgot I lived in Manchester, not London. I sighed, pulled my trousers up and stumbled over to my laptop. As I was already up, I'd might as well find a train ticket.

* * *

><p>I arrived in London at about seven in the morning, but I had to transfer three times to make it onto the Piccadilly line which would take me to Heathrow. Assuming that Alfred had flown to Heathrow and not Gatwick... honestly, if this wound up being a joke, Alfred would most definitely be reimbursing me for the railroad and Tube fare.<p>

I moseyed around the airport for about an hour. Going off what Alfred had said, his plane should have arrived around eight, British Standard Time. But, many planes arrived at about this hour, and there were three coming from Boston alone. I wasn't even sure if he'd transferred again, so I didn't really know what I was looking for on the arrivals board. Eventually, I walked over to the Costa nearby and picked up a chai tea, then sat back down outside of immigration to wait patiently.

I'd only taken a few sips when I heard him. I looked up and found that familiar tanned face with brilliant eyes looking back at me. I put down my cup as he came in to hug me.

"Artie, gosh, it's been so long! I missed ya!"

Less than a minute Alfred was with me, and already I was reacting to him. I found myself smiling into his shirt, and when he lifted my chin up, I wasted no time in diving in for a kiss. When I pulled away, both Alfred and I were grinning like idiots.

"You actually came. I thought perhaps this was some elaborate hoax for me to waste £150."

Alfred grinned and pressed a kiss to my temple.

"Now why would I do that?" He took my hand, and started dragging me out of the airport with haste, completely forgetting my tea on the airport floor. "Come on, Arthur, ya gotta show me everything. I've never left the States before ya know!"

I let him lead me, and found myself extremely content. I hadn't quite realized how much I missed him, until he was here with me, clutching my hand, and never letting go.

* * *

><p>"Alfred, look out!" I hollered at him, as I pulled him back onto the curb. "This is England, the cars come from the right. Did your mother not tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?"<p>

He smiled and acted as if he hadn't almost been hit by a car.

"Actually, nah, she never did. What was there to run me over, a tractor?"

I rolled my eyes and together we crossed the street. We'd already been walking around for a few hours, and I was surprised Alfred had not yet shown any signs of jetlag. Though, for the past fifteen minutes he had been complaining that all he'd eaten today was the rubbish plane food and that he was famished. I dragged him into the first pub we came across, and watched as his smile grew.

"Wow, a real British pub!" he grinned as I hung up my coat and led him to a table. "Can I get some of 'em fish and chips here?"

"Of course," I stuck my tongue out at him. "That's basic pub grub, Alfred."

"Great, then I'll have two orders of that and a Coke."

"A Coke? Even though we're in a pub?"

Alfred just shrugged his shoulders and looked around.

"I'm pretty beat. I could use the caffeine."

I nodded in understanding, and went off to place our order at the counter. When I returned, Alfred had started up a conversation with a group of regulars, who seemed to have welcomed him warmly. I joined in, and soon enough we wound up playing darts with the group until our order was ready. We sat back down grinning, and after a few minutes of eating, it actually dawned on me to ask the question I'd overlooked the whole day.

"Alfred, why did you even come in the first place? We never discussed you flying over."

He finished up a chip he'd been holding, then smiled grandly at me.

"I missed ya, Art! Ain't that a great reason for anything?"

I gave him an incredulous look, and after a few minutes of scrutiny, Alfred's cheeks began to bloom. He'd also started to play footsie with me under our table.

"Well it's true that I missed ya... but also, uh, a guy has needs ya know?" he said a bit embarassed, but I just grinned enticingly.

I slapped a £50 banknote on the table, and the two of us ran out, fairly hot and bothered.

"I believe there's a hotel about two blocks from here, though it's rather pricey-"

"Don't worry, I got it."

So we ran faster, hands clasped and sweaty, eager for what lay ahead.

* * *

><p>"Alfred?" I mumbled tiredly from beneath the sheets. What time was it? I didn't even remember falling asleep.<p>

"Grrrobb ooo ed," was the murmured response I received as I was pulled closer to his warmth. I smiled and snuggled in closer. I kissed Alfred's neck, and nuzzled myself nicely into the space under his chin.

"I love you," I whispered quietly, and watched as Alfred blinked open bleary, blue eyes and smiled back at me.

"I love ya too, Art," he said before promptly falling back into a deep slumber. I snorted as he released some light snores and kissed his neck once more.

It's strange how life can take you on these peculiar paths that you'd never imagined yourself going down. I'd gotten lost at a time, and here I was, a year later, with a man that had come to find me. And what have I learned? Love is something that can never be misplaced.


	7. A Work of Art

**Title:** A Work of Art

**Warnings:** Innuendos

**Summary:** Art student Arthur. Nude model Alfred. Enough said.

* * *

><p>On the first week of classes, when I'd walked into art and found I was the only male there, I'd said I was going to kill Francis.<p>

On the second week of classes, when I'd walked into art and all of the girls crowded around me, talking about how it was great that I wanted to express myself through art, I'd said I was going to kill Francis.

But it was on the third week of classes, when I'd walked into art and heard what we were about to do, that I _knew_ I was going to kill Francis.

_"Oh mon ami, wouldn't it be a terrific idea if you took an art class? It will be a relaxing break from all your other classes, and would be perfect for a liberal arts student, no?"_

Perfect my arse, or according to my art professor, somebody else's.

"What I've noticed while looking at your art thus far," said my professor, "is that not very many of you are very good at drawing human anatomy."

At this point I hadn't started to plot Francis' murder, no that wasn't until the professor spoke again.

"So as a benefit to all of you, because I want you to improve, I've brought in a model that you'll all be sketching," she paused to glance around the classroom. "And yes, it will be a nude sketch, but I know you'll all be able to control yourselves as mature college students."

At this point Francis still wasn't dead; hey if I was getting free porn, what the hell right? No, no, Francis was as good as dead the moment the model walked through the door.

"Alright, everybody please welcome Alfred Jones. He'll be your perfect anatomy model."

Dear god. The model was a male? What? Wasn't the art professor always going on about the beauty of the female body? What the hell is this? Why on Earth would you bring a male model into a class of 49 females... and me?

"Hey there," the model, Alfred, smiled as he stepped up onto the makeshift stand that had somehow made its way into the room. I looked up, but luckily the guy was still wearing a robe. Gosh, how old was he anyway? He looked younger than me.

"Alfred, would you like to introduce yourself before you are turned into a beautiful work of art?" the professor commented, clearly animated over the lovely view she was about to get. I cocked my head around and found that nearly every girl in the room was already fawning over this boy.

"Uh, well hi, my name's Alfred, like the lovely Professor Gilligan just pointed out."

Cue the professor fainting. God, this moron was full of himself.

"Uh yeah... I go here. I'm a sophomore and I needed a quick hundred bucks, so yeah."

That's nice, hurry it up so this can be over with, please.

"Oh! And I'm gay, sorry ladies."

That last sentence. Tagged on as an afterthought. Less than 10 words, which didn't even come from my mouth, and I had every girl in the class (the professor included) staring me down. I could already hear the psychotic girl to my right mumbling something about poison not being so messy. Honestly, I was thinking the exact same thing.

_ Francis I am going to bloody murder you, you blundering idiot. How dare you get me into this you bastard? I should kill you with some type of erotic torture- but then again you'd probably enjoy that._

"Class," the professor called us back to attention though her tone was now much graver. "Now I'm sorry to disappoint you all, but you need to settle down. We will still be drawing today."

I wanted to facepalm, really I did, but that would've been impolite. Oh lovely, the model was staring at me now... as were several furious females.

"Alfred, if you would?" the professor called, and Alfred smiled at her then turned back to his audience just as quickly.

He shed his clothing like a porn star, and I'm not going to lie, he looked like one too. Alfred was built, my god was he ripped. Everything from his arms to his thighs were bulging with taut muscle... and that's not the only thing that was bulging.

I picked up my pencil and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. I started at his head, obviously, as I tried to avoid gazing at other areas. My pencil traced a few quick lines, but I got distracted as he started smiling at me.

"_Hi_," he mouthed. I pointedly ignored him and went back to drawing, but when I looked up again: "_Are you gay_?" Way to be subtle. I flushed and continued to disregard him.

Alfred frowned as I moved past his face and down to his shoulder and abdomen. He was clearly still trying to catch my attention though and it was hard (no pun intended) to look somewhere besides his obnoxious face and his nether regions. I carried on, but soon enough it came time to draw Alfred's... family jewels. I obviously couldn't just leave a gapping whole between his legs, lest I want to fail the class. So I snuck, peak. And then a longer one, and again until I was drawing Alfred 's essence in intricate detail. I could feel my cheeks grow hot, though I knew it was stupid. This was an assignment. I had no choice... right? And I surely wasn't impressed by any part of this twat of a model... right?

I glanced back up to Alfred's face after finishing up the lower half of my drawing. Alfred was not only smiling, but he had that self amused smirk of victory, as my cheeks flushed even redder.

"_Like what you see?_"

Needless to say, my face spoke for me. I averted my eyes back down to finish his legs which were miraculously toned. I hadn't even realized a whole hour and a half went by when the professor called out to us that class was over.

"Alright, finish up. It's 4:30 and I know some of you have classes at 5. Please leave me your sketches to view and comment on," she turned, slightly disappointed to our hero. "And thank you Alfred, so much for volunteering to better the arts."

He picked up his robe that had oh-so-casually fallen to the floor and wrapped it around himself.

"Anything for the arts! " he replied. "...and a hundred bucks."

I snorted and carefully slid my pencils and erasers back into my messenger bag. At least this session was over. But when I stood back up, as all the rejected girls were filing out of the room, I was blocked by a large, sculpted body, covered by a thin layer of cotton.

"Hey there," he said and shot me a bright smile. "My name's Alfred."

I rolled my eyes and tried to find a way past him, but he blocked my exit. I gave in and stared up at him.

"I'm aware. You were only introduced what, four times now?"

Alfred grinned and laughed.

"Cute _and_ funny," he flashed me another smile. "Might I get the pleasure of your name?"

My cheeks flushed, and I huffed, still looking for another manner of escape.

"Look, Mr. Jones-"

"Alfred-"

"Right, whatever. I've obviously already seen what you have to offer, and I'm not interested."

Alfred frowned, but he clearly did not seem to want to give up.

"Damn, Francis did say you play hard to get."

That piqued my interest, and I turned to give Alfred my full attention.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I have this friend Francis, and he said I might be interested in you, so he persuaded me to do this modeling thing so I could come and meet you, plus hey it was worth a hundred bucks."

So you see, it was on the third week of classes that I'd decided I was going to kill Francis. Alfred actually wound up asking me out, and I said yes on one condition: I get to pick what we're doing. I'm not sure when to break it to him that we'll be burying a body.


	8. Vetted

**Title:** Vetted

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Arthur takes Hero in for a checkup.

* * *

><p>"Come on, love. Yes, yes, that's the ticket!" Arthur smiled gently at his pet fur ball as he coaxed the oversized cat into its carrier. The moment Arthur closed the door though, incessant meowing echoed from the cage.<p>

"Yes, love, I know. But you have to get your check up, lest something happen to you," Arthur said calmly and stuck a finger into the door of the carrier. "It'll be quick, I promise. And if you're a good boy, I might just stop and get you some hamburger meat on the way back."

At this the meowing ceased, as if the huge kitten could truly understand what the Brit was saying. Arthur picked up the carrier and loaded him into the car.

"Good boy, Hero, love. Good boy."

* * *

><p>After parking his car, Arthur unloaded his kitty cargo and carried it into the veterinary hospital. The waiting room was already filled with a symphony of wailing felines, and hyperactive dogs, which Hero quickly joined in on. The Brit frowned, feeling a headache coming on, and walked up to the reception counter. A man with silvery hair, and bright blinding eyes was there to receive him.<p>

"Hello, I'm here to see Dr. Edelstein."

The receptionist smirked and locked eyes with Arthur.

"Kesesese, I don't think he could do much for you; you're not an animal."

Arthur flushed as the pale man started to laugh himself into oblivion.

"Right, well, my cat Hero is here to see the doctor then."

The vet assistant slowly calmed down from his laughing spree and looked at the Brit.

"Ah, well I hate to be the person that has to break this to you, but Dr. Edelstein's out today."

Arthur frowned back at the man.

"What? But I have an appointment, and I even received a call confirming it-"

"Alright, alright, calm down. I'll see what the awesome me can do for you."

The young blonde quieted as the receptionist started typing away on his computer.

"Name?"

"Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."

A few more clicks, and some typing.

"Right, and you're here with Hero?"

"Yes."

The pale man glanced back up at Arthur for a few seconds.

"Kay, so I can't fit you in with Dr. Edelstein until next week, but if you'd like, I can get another doctor to see you and your cat today."

Arthur's shoulders slumped and he let loose a sigh. As much as he wanted to reschedule so his trusted doctor could see to Hero, the poor cat was already here, and Arthur thought it would be cruel to wind up dragging him back in a week.

"Another doctor would be fine," Arthur replied, and the receptionist started typing away again. After a few seconds he got up, walked around the counter, and escorted Arthur to a waiting room. Once inside, Arthur put the large crate containing his cat on the examining table, as the pale man started to leave the room.

"Dr. Jones will see _you_ shortly," he accentuated with a grin and chuckle. "Ha! Didja notice I used _you_, because you initially asked to see a vet? Ah, I crack myself up." He left the room snorting.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and then looked back at his precious pet. He walked over to the carrier and undid the hinges on the door, but Hero refused to emerge.

"Come on, love. It's not that bad. I go through checkups as well, you know," he spoke, while petting his cat through the opening in the carrier. "I don't want you to get sick. I want you to keep your coat nice and shiny, and your nose healthy and wet."

"Aww you're a real cat person, aren't cha?"

Arthur's eyes widened, and he leaned up to come face to face, with another man. The gent, presumably the doctor, was tall and blonde, with very clear blue eyes. Arthur couldn't help his face from heating, as he realized he'd just been caught having a conversation with his cat.

"Ah, yes well, I was trying to calm him down and-"

"No need to explain yourself," the man smiled and extended a hand. Arthur shook it firmly. "I'm Dr. Jones, and I'm quite the cat person myself. Got a cute little bundle of white and orange fuzz back at home."

Arthur visibly relaxed and smiled back at the doctor. The man had a smooth, and charismatic feel about him; it was as if just his presence was enough to calm the Briton.

"Is that so? Sounds quite lovely."

"Yeah, he is. Though he's such a picky kitty," the Doctor smiled at Arthur and then leaned down to look into the cat carrier. "And who do we have here?"

Remarkably, at the sound of the veterinarian's voice, Arthur's white and black fur ball appeared from his cage. The doctor smiled, and pet the cat gently, letting it know he was trustworthy. Arthur couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"This is Hero," he answered matter-of-factly, to which the doctor let loose a laugh.

"Hero? What a purrrfect name!" Dr. Jones joked, and Arthur couldn't help but grin again. This was quite a lot of smiling for him.

The doctor started to inspect Hero's teeth, ears, and coat, but he seemed content to keep talking to the owner of his furry patient.

"Not to be rude," Jones started, while feeling up Hero's tummy, "But I noticed your accent there. May I ask where you're from?"

Arthur's cheeks pinked just a bit.

"No that's perfectly fine. I'm from England, grew up right outside of Brighton if you know where that is."

"That's a beach town south of London, right?"

Arthur blinked, as if skeptical of the answer he'd just received.

"Yes, that's right. I'm impressed."

"Well, I did take a year of geography back in high school."

"Ah, that explains it."

The doctor started chuckling, and Arthur found himself smiling again. The taller of the two glanced up and grinned broadly.

"I never did catch your name," the doctor asked nonchalantly as he reached for a thermometer. Arthur inadvertently blushed.

"It's Arthur, Arthur Kirkland."

"Great, well now that were on a first name basis, call me Alfred," the doctor said with a grand smile.

The Brit found himself at a loss for words, and simply mumbled out:

"Of course."

Alfred moved over to grab a thermometer, and started wiping it off with some gauze. He walked back over to the chubby kitty that lay on the table, and ran his free hand through the fuzz.

"Alright buddy, this is gonna feel a bit weird, but I just gotta take your temperature, ok?" He continued petting the cat, but looked up at Arthur. "Would you mind holding him steady? Some cats get a little spooked, if ya know what I mean."

Arthur obliged and held his precious kitty down as Alfred inserted the thermometer. As expected, Hero squirmed at the intrusion, but the doctor just kept petting him and whispering light comments.

"Thata boy," Alfred cooed, as he slowly removed the thermometer and read it. "A normal reading, that's great, Hero!" He gave the cat a quick scratch on the chin, and then walked over to the sink to rinse off his tool.

"Well, Arthur, he looks really good except for being a bit overweight. I'd like to see him lose 2 to 3 pounds if possible." He put the thermometer away in its rightful place before returning to Arthur. He pet Hero softly as he continued to speak. "If you could get him on an all wet food diet, that'd be great. After all we do wanna see this little guy live to a ripe old age," he said with a smile.

Arthur returned it with gratitude.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to do that. I'll have to cut down on the amount of treats he gets as well."

At that exact moment Hero meowed, as if complaining, and both men burst out laughing.

"Sounds like he doesn't like that idea," Alfred commented.

"No, well it doesn't surprise me; Hero loves his hamburger."

"Hamburger!" Alfred shrieked and smiled at the cat. "Man he's got good taste!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but Hero started to rub his head along Alfred's arm and hand in agreement.

"Well it looks like the two of you make a great pair," Arthur said with a smile, and Alfred did the same. The taller man reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper.

"That's very true; I'd like to get to know Hero better, but I really do have to assist my other patients."

A frown flashed across Arthur's lips, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Ah, I understand. Busy, busy doctor."

Alfred smiled and handed Arthur the slip of paper before heading to the door.

"Yeah, unfortunately, that is the case. I wouldn't want any pets being sick longer than they have to," he paused and raised a hand. "It was nice meeting you, Arthur."

"You too," the latter replied and then in a moment the doctor was gone.

Arthur sighed and looked back down at the paper, quickly realizing he hadn't questioned what it was. Tentatively, he unfolded it while smiling, shocked to find a phone number and small note in the vet's handwriting.

_Hero's not the only one I'd like to examine. Dinner?_

_ -Alfred_


	9. Grounded

_A/N: This story was written for the USUK Community Secret Santa Event on Livejournal. The two prompts I worked with were: 1) All I want for Christmas is you **and** 2) Cuddling under a quilt. I don't own anything alluded to or mentioned! :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Grounded

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred and Arthur get stuck at the airport on Christmas Eve.

* * *

><p>"British Airways flight 1350 to London, Heathrow," Arthur read aloud as he traced the flight number on the departure board. "Cancelled."<p>

Alfred remained silent as his partner turned to him with a disgruntled expression.

"I told you we shouldn't have waited until Christmas Eve to fly out to my parents' house. They'll have my head for this, Alfred! The family won't be all together on Christmas!"

"Artie, calm down," the American begged as he took Arthur's hand and led him away from the electronic screen. "It's honestly not that big a deal. I'm sure they'll have us on a flight over tomorrow."

Alfred guided his boyfriend back to their gate and together the pair took a seat on the rather uncomfortable airport chairs provided.

"No, Alfred... you don't understand," Arthur said irritated as he held a hand to his head and started rubbing his temples. "It _is_ a big deal. This was going to be the first time you met my parents! They were going to welcome you into the family at Christmastime, Alfred! They were finally going to accept us as a couple..."

The American reached over and squeezed the shorter man's shoulder.

"Aww come on, Arthur. You make it sound like just because we won't make it for Christmas, we won't make it there at all. I'm sure your parents will be happy to see you, regardless of what day it is."

The Briton sighed and looked up at the man seated in front of him.

"But Alfred, that's not the only thing," Arthur said gently, his gaze quickly traveling to the marble ground. "I wanted the holiday to be perfect... I wanted to just spend time cuddling in front of the fire, and drinking cocoa...," Arthur admitted with a flushed face and refused to look at his partner. "And to top it off, I sent all of the gifts I bought you ahead of us, so now I don't have a single thing to give you. This whole holiday is ruined by the stupid insurmountable amount of snow."

For a moment there was no response, but then, out of nowhere, Alfred laughed.

"Christmas _ruined_ by snow? I've never heard that one before."

Arthur cast a glance upwards to glare at Alfred, but held back when he realized the man was not mocking him; he was simply being the sincere and juvenile person he always was.

Alfred wiped a fake tear from his eye as he calmed himself down. He looked back at Arthur with bright blue eyes, and an equally brilliant grin. He leaned forward and took Arthur in his arms.

"Aw babe, please don't be sad," he said in his gentle tone as he placed a chaste kiss to the top of Arthur's mop of sandy blonde hair. "We don't need presents or fireplaces to celebrate Christmas," he remarked, and the Brit looked up at him curiously. "We've got all we need, right here."

Arthur sent him a quizzical look as the American stood up.

"You don't believe me, do ya, Artie?" he asked with a childish grin. "Well I'll show you what I mean. Sit tight and watch our bags. I'll be right back," Alfred said as he started jogging down the terminal. "Christmas Eve will be awesome, just you wait and see!"

* * *

><p>Arthur waited patiently in the terminal for his love to return. For a while he simply sat glancing out the window at the falling snow, but when that tired itself out, he started to people watch. He would observe as someone passed by him, and created a whole life for them in his mind. The young woman who just hurried by for example, was changing planes to meet her family over winter break, though that plan was now ruined. The five or six year old boy who was led by his father as his mother followed quickly behind, was excited to see his grandparents again. Only now, because of the sudden snowstorm, that too was a deflated dream. Arthur started to wonder if anyone could be happy spending Christmas Eve cooped up in an airport.<p>

"Santa's not the only one who's watching people, huh?" Alfred remarked with a smile, and Arthur was startled out of his musings. The American let loose a loud but good-natured laugh, and as he did, Arthur caught sight of the two paper cups he was holding, and the plastic bag slung on his arm.

"Hold these, will ya?" Alfred requested, as he handed Arthur the warm cups and picked up the small carry on the couple had brought with them.

"Alfred, what are you planning?" Arthur asked confused, as he followed the golden blonde to another area of the airport.

"Be patient, Artie! Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

* * *

><p>"Alfred, honestly?" Arthur asked incredulously as his boyfriend removed a pack of candy canes from his bag and started to adorn a plotted plant in the corner of terminal E. He sat in front of the decorative greenery, shaking his head, though a small smile was evident on his face.<p>

"Yep!" Alfred responded, not looking away from his work for a minute. "Hey Art, do me a favor and dig out the blanket I packed. It should be on the top, in the main pocket."

Arthur complied with the request, and unzipped their miniature suitcase to find an old plaid quilt he'd made for Alfred ages ago, neatly folded on the top.

"You brought a quilt? Love, we're going to England, not Siberia," Arthur responded sarcastically and Alfred chuckled.

"Actually, I packed it just in case. I know how you always tend to get cold in movie theaters and stuff, so I thought I'd bring it."

"Oh," was the only intelligible response Arthur could come up with as his cheeks started to flush a light pink. Alfred had been... thinking ahead? To make everything more comfortable for him? Well now that was rather sweet.

"Great!" the louder of the two announced as he placed the last candy cane on the plant and stepped back to admire his work. "Whadda think, Arthur?" he asked as he took a seat next to his sweetheart and sent him a dorky smile.

"Quite creative," Arthur answered as he rolled his eyes, but Alfred's grin simply expanded and he laughed.

"I knew you'd like it! Now we have a Christmas tree to cuddle in front of!"

"A Christmas tree to do wha-"

But Arthur was cut off, as Alfred wrapped his arms around the Brit's middle and pulled him into his lap. He took the quilt from Arthur's hands, and spread it across their legs.

"Mhhm it's not a fireplace, but I thought it would do," Alfred murmured against the Briton's neck, and Arthur could feel his skin grow hot; though whether it was from arousal or his boyfriend's endearing charm, he wasn't sure.

"Oh Alfred," he sighed, though contentedly, and turned to rest his head on his lover's shoulder. The two cuddled together under the quilt, gazing at Alfred's marvelous creation, and beyond through the window, as snow blanketed the ground. Some Christmas songs coming from the airport speakers made for soft background noise and aided in giving the couple's awkward predicament an almost cozy feeling. The two stayed like that for another few minutes before Alfred suddenly remembered something.

"Crap! Where are those cups I gave you? The hot chocolate's getting cold!"

Arthur maneuvered over to grab the cups and handed one to Alfred. He removed the top off his own cup and lifted it to his lips when Alfred panicked and grabbed the beverage away from him.

"No! Artie wait! Ya gotta drink it the proper way."

From the plastic bag where the candy canes had emerged, Alfred pulled two souvenir coffee mugs. The American poured the contents of one of the paper cups into a mug and handed it to Arthur. The mug was plain white, though bright, colorful words printed on the front read: "Somebody in Boston loves me." Arthur couldn't help but smile at the silliness of the whole situation.

"There we go," Alfred announced as he poured his own hot chocolate, and tugged Arthur back into his arms. The two sat warm and cuddled in each other's arms, slowly downing the sweet liquid.

* * *

><p>By the time Arthur had downed the contents of his mug, and gently laid it on the ground, the sky outside was dark, though still speckled with white as snow continued to fall. He wasn't sure how many hours had passed since they arrived, but the couple definitely should have been pretty far over the Atlantic Ocean by now, and yet they were still stuck here in the Boston airport.<p>

In spite of that, when these thoughts crossed Arthur's mind, he didn't frown as he might have before. Alfred's good intentions and sweet company never failed to brighten his mood. He'd never admit it, but he was absolutely grateful he'd met and fallen in love with such a wonderful, though often childish person.

"Artie, you still awake?" Alfred whispered, and Arthur realized he'd closed his eyes for just a moment. He blinked himself awake and lifted his head off of Alfred's shoulder.

"Yes," the Briton answered, albeit tiredly. Alfred grinned and pulled something from his jeans' pocket; his phone. He fiddled with it for a moment before looking back at Arthur.

"Great cause there's one more thing we gotta do on Christmas Eve," he said with a playful grin, and revealed to Arthur a glowing screen that displayed a digital mistletoe. "$0.99 mistletoe app for the win, man!" he said with such a joyful tone, that Arthur didn't even berate him for wasting money on something so stupid.

Alfred held his phone up above their heads and leaned in to kiss his partner. Arthur was tired at this point, but he smiled into Alfred's sweet show of affection, and kissed him back just as gently. He pulled away and with a grin on his face and pink cheeks, which Alfred then quickly moved to press a kiss to.

"Merry Christmas, Arthur," he said tenderly, pocketing his phone, and wrapping more of the blanket around himself and his partner as he brought the Briton closer. "I love you."

Arthur didn't even bother averting his eyes this time, though his flush did grow brighter.

"I love you too, Alfred. Happy Christmas."

Alfred pulled Arthur down to the floor and the two snuggled within the confines of the blanket until the elder of the two fell asleep in Alfred's embrace. The American smiled at the shorter man in his arms and gripped him even tighter. Lightly in his ear, Alfred whispered a few words that would go unheard.

"I told you we don't need glitz and glam to celebrate the holidays. After all," Alfred smiled at the bundle in his arms. "All I really want for Christmas is you."


	10. Equals

**Title:** Equals

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Cardverse AU in which the Queen of Spades has a sentimental conversation with the King.

* * *

><p>"King Alfred!"<p>

Said man lowered his bow and arrow which he had practicing with and turned to the sound. His queen was summoning him, standing in the large intricate doorway at the back of the castle. He immediately dropped his archery equipment and ran toward him.

"Arthur, how many times have I told you to just call me Al?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around the smaller male. Arthur was clad in his classy attire; always looking spiffy and official. Alfred on the other hand had simply been practicing in baggy pants and a tunic.

Arthur looked up at him gently, then cast his eyes back down to the floor.

"You are my King, and I must address you as such," he mumbled out, then glanced back to catch Alfred's reaction.

The king frowned for a moment before leaning forward and placing a light kiss on Arthur's cheek. He took his thumb and ran it along the warming skin.

"Arthur, I may be your king, but I am your husband first," he smiled sincerely into green eyes. "You are my equal, and I refuse to be treated in any other way."

The Queen's face quickly mimicked the King's. A smile and bright blush passed across it.

"Alfred, you're royalty and I was nothing but a poor mage. I still don't understand why you chose me as your Quee-"

"Arthur! Have you been listening to anything I've just said?" he asked with a smile, as he gently shook his husband's shoulders. "Having royal blood has nothing to do with whom I fall in love with."

The king leaned forward once more and captured his queen's lips. They remained like that in the ornate doorway for a few moments before Arthur broke apart.

"Forgive me, love. Sometimes I forget you're just as foolish as the rest of us," Arthur spoke with a smile.

"No problem. Now what was it you called me for in the first place?"

The Queen's eyes widened as he grabbed his husband's wrist, dragging him inside.

"Damn you and your love talk. By now the tea has certainly gotten cold."

Alfred let out a childish cackle as he followed his queen and husband into the castle for tea time.


	11. Christmas Kitties

_A/N: I wrote this as a sequel to a story called _Kitten Love_ by Hoshiko2 on tumblr, which you should check out! I think you can still read this story without the prior knowledge, though :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Christmas Kitties

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Arthur and Crumpet visit their partners on Christmas.

* * *

><p>America was icing up the last batch of cookies as his doorbell rang. It was mid morning on Christmas Day, and he'd been expecting his visitor since the night before.<p>

"England!" he all but shrieked as he threw his arms around the shorter man and scooped him into a massive bear hug.

"For Pete's sake, America! Need I remind you every time? It's amazing Crumpet survives these visits," England retorted, though with no venom at all. How could he be angry with his boyfriend on Christmas?

America let out a childish chortle and released the Briton, who in turn, set down the carrier and released the trapped Scottish Fold. Crumpet made it halfway out of his carrier before another large, white cat bolted down the stairs to greet him.

_Crumpet! You're back!_

_Yes, hello love._ The smaller of the two cat's leaned forward to deliver a polite greeting lick. _I see your paw has healed up nicely._

_Yup! _Ace returned Crumpet's gesture with a much more sloppy lick. Crumpet wound up shaking off the extra saliva.

_Did your mother never teach you how to groom properly?_ the elder cat let out a low moan, almost as if he were sighing. Ace mewed in response and removed his head from the carrier. _Come on I've got stuff to show you, Crumpet!_

"I'm telling you they're the cat versions of us," America snickered as he embraced England one more time and nuzzled the Brit's cheek. He leant back and smiled. "Come on England, ya gotta see the tree. And I have an extra special gift that's dying to be opened!"

With a sigh, each of the Britons followed their respective loud and excited partners.

* * *

><p><em>Come on, Crumpet, have a whack at it! You know you want to!<em> Ace sat on one of the steps, eagerly batting at the shiny tinsel that was wrapped around the banister.

_You are very easily entertained, you know that?_ The Scottish Fold shook his head and watched as Ace lost his balance and almost fell in-between the bars. Crumpet moved fast and latched onto the fur behind Ace's neck, keeping him from taking a tumble. When he regained his balance Ace moved to give Crumpet a thank you lick, which the elder cat grudgingly accepted. _You're still just a fat kitten._

_Hey! _Ace meowed back indignantly. _Am not! _

_Of course, love. _Crumpet said without looking at his fellow feline, though he was smirking. _Now come, I do believe your master's bed is empty, and I'd fancy a nap after all that traveling._

Crumpet started climbing the stairs, almost falling when Ace bounded ahead of him.

_Race ya!_

_Bloody kitten! When did I ever agree to a race?_ Crumpet mumbled, but dashed off after his partner.

* * *

><p>After nearly twenty minutes of kneading the covers, Crumpet finally curled up next to Ace.<p>

_Took you long enough! Our nap could be over and we could be exploring right now, but no._

_Love, do me a favor and shush,_ Crumpet said as he nuzzled himself into the brown fur that covered Ace's collar. _My master and I will be here for quite awhile. There will be plenty of time to do things._ Crumpet snuggled some more, as a light motor-like sound emanated from the sleepy cat. At that Ace quieted and joined in, his own purring starting and easily overtaking Crumpet's. It was quiet for all of a few minutes before Ace opened his mouth again.

_I really want you to stay forever this time. Please don't go._

Crumpet lifted his head and looked the overgrown kitten in the eyes.

_Poppet, if you try another one of your tricks to get me to stay and harm my master, I will not think twice about ignoring you the rest of the trip._

_Aww no way, you wouldn't do that-_

_The. Rest. Of. The. Trip._ Crumpet accented each word, as his eyes remained locked on Ace. The bigger cat frown and lowered his head into the covers.

_But... I love you. I just want you to stay so we can cuddle, and play with mice, and share tuna all the time! Isn't there a way?_

Crumpet opened his mouth to reply to the distraught fluff ball when a gasp from downstairs caught his attention and he perked up. He immediately stood and Ace did as well.

_That was my master!_ Crumpet said as he jumped of the bed and started heading down the stairs. Ace followed suit. _Oh, if your master hurt him, he will pay._

_My master would never hurt yours!_ Ace assured as the two raced down the stairs. The cats ran around the corner and stopped suddenly in the living room when they found both men unharmed, and on the contrary, both looked exceedingly happy.

"America, you, you...," England held a small package in his hands as he turned around and embraced the taller man. "Yes," he whispered, as America squeezed him tight and brought their lips together.

_What are they doing?_ Ace asked confused. He'd seen his master do this activity several times, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was.

_I'm fairly certain it compares to this,_ Crumpet responded with a light lick to the side of his face. Ace grinned in return then looked back at their masters.

"For real, England? You're sure?" America asked with a flushed face, and huge grin, as he brushed away some hair from the Briton's forehead.

"Yes, America. How many times must I say it?" he tried to reply huffily, but a genuine smile graced his lips as well.

America let loose a chuckle, and with it went any of the worries he might have had. He took England's hand, and slid a ring onto the appropriate finger.

"I love you, England," he said and pressed a chaste kiss to the man's forehead. "Thanks for making this the best Christmas ever."

The Brit blushed, but smiled in return.

"The same to you, America," he paused to nuzzle the man's neck. "I love you as well."

Ace turned and sent Crumpet a questioning glance.

_What just happened?_

Crumpet had a soft smile, and his ears looked even more perky than usual as he answered the bigger cat.

_Love, I have a feeling I'll be spending a lot more time with you in the near future._

At this, Ace's eyes widened and he tackled Crumpet to the floor with excitement. England heard the ordeal and turned to regard the cats with a smile.

"You were right. They are the cat version of us," England said as he rested his head on America's shoulder.

"Yup! Look, I even top!" America grinned and let loose a few snickers, which England berated him for.

And thus was the start of a pure, beautiful and everlasting relationship.


	12. Field Trip

**Title:** Field Trip

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** The last thing Arthur, an elementary school teacher, wants to deal with on a field trip is an annoying, American, bus driver.

* * *

><p>"Everybody, please calm down!" Mr. Kirkland insisted, waving his hands frantically. "Children, I know you're excited, but before we can board the bus and get on with this little escapade, you need to let me take roll."<p>

One of the children shot their hand up in the air. Mr. Kirkland sighed and called on the boy.

"Yes, John?"

"What's an escapade?"

Arthur sighed once again, not because he was irritated by the child, but rather that he was already exhausted and their trip hadn't even begun.

"It's a synonym for an adventure," the young teacher answered. Yet as soon as he did, the child shot his hand right back in the air.

"Yes, John?"

"What's a sin-uh-nim?" he asked sounding it out.

Mr. Kirkland laughed slightly, as he picked up his clipboard and pen.

"That's a story for a whole other time, okay, John?" he answered politely and the child smiled. The teacher returned the gesture and then started taking roll.

"Nicole?"

_"Here!"_

"Evan?"

_"Present!"_

"Carolina?"

_"Yo!"_

Arthur spared a glance at the troublesome child for a fraction of a second before he returned, and slowly checked off all 30 names on his clipboard.

"Alright, everyone's here, that's wonderful," Arthur started, grinning at his students. "Remember what I told you all, alright? You're to stay with you chaperone every step of the way. If you get lost, try to find somebody who works at the museum and show them your sticker and they'll help you," Mr. Kirkland pointed to the bright yellow sticker he was wearing, and all the children had stuck on their clothes as well.

"Yes, Mr. K!" the children answered in unison.

"Lovely," the teacher responded. "Oh and one last thing before we board. I want all of you on your best behavior on the bus ride and during the trip. You will use your proper school room etiquette while we are away. That means no food on the bus, staying in your seat, using your inside voice, etcetera. Is that understood?"

The same child who raised his hand before did so again.

Mr. Kirkland smiled at the small boy.

"Etcetera means 'and so on,' John. Now, come on everyone! Let's make the most of this trip."

* * *

><p>Mr. Kirkland was the very last one to board after ensuring that all the students and chaperones made it onto the bus safely. He took the first few steps and came eye to eye with the bus driver, a young fellow of no more than twenty, with golden blonde hair and azure eyes. The teacher smiled politely and reached out a hand.<p>

"Hello, I'm Arthur Kirkland," he introduced himself as the bus driver accepted his gesture. "I've told the children to be on their absolute best behavior, and I just wanted to thank you once again, Mr..."

"Mr. Jones!" the driver replied vivaciously with a giant grin plastered on his face. "But call me, Alfred."

Arthur smiled back gently.

"Wonderful. Well thank you, Alfred."

"No problem, Arthur! I hope the kids have a great time!"

Mr. Kirkland nodded and then stood once more to direct attention towards him.

"Alright everyone, we're about to go. Though before we do so, can you all please say hello to our wonderful driver who will be taking us on this journey; Mr. Jones."

"Hi, Mr. Jones!" All the children, as well as some of the adults responded.

The bus driver waved, and took down his radio so he could speak to all the students.

"Hey everyone! Are you ready for an adventure?"

The children cheered.

"I'm glad, cause learning about history is really awesome!" Alfred answered them, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"And guys, I want you to enjoy the trip, so feel free to eat, drink, talk, whatever! I want you guys to have lots of fun!"

The children cheered again as Alfred hung up the radio, and Mr. Kirkland sent him an incredulous look.

"Mr. Jones, you do realize I told the children not to do any of those things before we got on the bus-"

"It's Alfred," the driver replied as he winked at the teacher and shut the door. "And it's really no problem. I like to let the kids have some fun, ya'know?"

The young blonde put the bus in drive and started them out on their excursion.

"Sure, I suppose that's alright."

Though Mr. Kirkland didn't know how wrong he was.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later Arthur's brows were furrowed and he grated his teeth as he tried to concentrate on the novel in front of him. The bus was a mess of noises: screaming children, and chatting adults, along with slurping and munching. "Let the kids have some fun," Alfred had said. Arthur almost growled as he lifted a hand to rub at his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.<p>

"So, I couldn't help but notice you're not from around here."

Arthur lifted his head and found the bus driver looking at him through the rear view mirror. Now was really not a good time for conversation.

"Yes, well, I was born in Plymouth, England. But I actually lived in Riverside for quite a few years before I moved to the east coast."

"Oh, no way! My mom lives around West Covina and that's not too far away."

Arthur smiled politely before he attempted to return to his book; attempted being the key word.

"It's just kinda funny, ya'know? That you teach American history and you're a Brit."

"Remind me why that's funny," Mr. Kirkland spat out before he could help it. The bus driver sensed the change in tone immediately.

"Oh sorry. I didn't mean it offensively or anything, it's just a bit uncommon. I mean were going to the National Museum of American History of all places, and you're-"

"If you're quite done, I'd like to get back to reading my American novel. Or does that bother you too? The fact that I'm reading something that isn't from my home country?"

Alfred bit his tongue, and kept his eyes on the road.

"Um, no. I'm sorry, go right ahead. I really hope I didn't offend you."

There was no conversation between the two for the rest of the trip; but it was by no means quiet.

* * *

><p>Mr. Kirkland checked the last student off on his clipboard as the young girl exited the bus.<p>

"Everyone made it, excellent," he mumbled to himself as he tucked the clip board away in his messenger bag full of EpiPens and other medications the children might need in case of an emergency. He clicked his bag shut, and was ready to follow his students when a voice stopped him.

"Look, Mr. Kirkland, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean anything by that comment, and I'm actually really happy someone would take an interest in our history," the bus driver said simply as he stood up from his chair. "No hard feelings?"

Arthur gave the man a once over, and looking at him a second time, it really struck him just how young the man was. He barely looked out of college, if that. He was just a child.

"It's quite alright," Arthur mumbled upon this realization. "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I'm just a bit stressed with the children and all."

Alfred offered a kind smile back at the Briton.

"No problem. I'm glad it got all sorted out."

Arthur watched as the man's smile slowly faded and he took his seat once more, already looking rather bored.

"Ummm," the teacher started out of nowhere. "I'm not sure what the rules are regarding your job and such, but if you'd like to join the children and I in the museum, well it is free and-"

The bus driver jumped from his seat and squeezed the Brit in a sudden hug.

"That sounds great, Artie! Lemme just park this baby and I'll meet you inside!"

Arthur couldn't help a small laugh as he exited the bus and walked to the entrance to wait for the overexcited driver.

* * *

><p>"So we are all to meet back here at 3:30 is that understood?" The parents nodded, already trying to keep all their students together. "You're welcome to eat lunch at any time, and remember if something happens, you have my phone number." The chaperones nodded and Arthur turned to the children.<p>

"Alright, everyone have fun! And don't forget, we'll be having a short quiz on some of the objects in this museum when we get back tomorrow. They're all on the guide I've made for you, so keep a look out for them."

Some of the children groaned annoyed, but most were too happy that they were missing a day of school to really care. The teacher smiled as he watched his students dart off in different directions of the museum.

"Hey there!" A large hand was placed on Arthur's shoulder and he gasped.

"Woah, woah, didn't mean to scare ya! It's just me."

Arthur turned to find the young blue-eyed bus driver in front of him.

"Oh, why yes. I'm easily startled, so sorry."

"Again, no problem!" he assured and flashed a smile. "So where do you wanna start Arthur? I think the Star-Spangled Banner would be good. Come on!"

Energetic, Alfred grabbed hold of Arthur's hand and started dragging him to the first exhibit. The poor Brit never even got a word in.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, and after a brief lunch, Arthur found himself still following the bus driver. As they'd gone through the museum, Alfred actually had some very interesting commentary that the teacher would have never expected. As they strolled through the <em>America at War<em> section though, Alfred seemed the most alert, knowing facts on all types of machinery from the Civil War to World War Two.

"I had no idea you were so versed in history," Arthur admitted as they exited the exhibit.

"Hmm... well my dad was a medic in Vietnam, and I don't know, he just got me really interested in America's history. He used to tell me I'd never understand the present if I didn't know the past."

"That's rather wise advice," Arthur said solemnly as the two entered the _First Ladies_ section of the museum.

"Yeah. I actually dreamed of majoring in history, I wanted to teach it too. I guess I kind of envy you," Alfred said with a small smile and laugh.

"Oh? Well if you never majored in history, what did you major in?"

"Nothing," Alfred said quite bluntly. "I got excepted to Berkeley, but then dad got sick, and I had to take care of him." Somewhere along the line the two had stopped walking and Arthur was staring up at Alfred. "But... he passed away. By then I couldn't really afford to go, even though I still wanted to. My cousin Matt thought it might be a good idea if I got away from Cali for awhile, so I moved and yep, here I am."

"Oh, Alfred I'm sorry... I had no idea...," Arthur was really at a loss for words.

"S'alright," the driver answered him, the sorrow quickly drifting away. "Everything worked out in the end. I still get to work with kids, and look, now I even have a friend who likes history as much as I do!"

Arthur smiled, and continued to listen as Alfred commented on each of the First Ladies' dresses.

* * *

><p>Before either of the men realized, it was already 3:30. They made their way back to the bus, but not before Arthur bought a small aviator teddy bear. Alfred gave him a knowing look, and Arthur just flustered and replied with:<p>

"It's for my brother back in England. I promise you!"

Alfred laughed, and Arthur smiled, and soon enough they were both back on the bus. The teacher started to check off names once more as all his students climbed aboard.

"Hello, Elizabeth. Did you enjoy the trip?" Mr. Kirkland asked as another student boarded the bus.

"Yes, it was really cool!"

Arthur caught Alfred smiling in the rearview mirror and stuck his tongue out at him. Alfred started laughing, and for the first time in awhile, Arthur felt something very warm and pleasant in his heart. Though he immediately dismissed it as another group of students made their way onto the bus.

"I do believe, that's everybody," Arthur announced and the children turned to look at him. "Did you all enjoy yourselves?"

Some of the students replied happily, others said nothing, and some seemed to have already been tired and fallen asleep. All in all, Arthur considered this a pretty good turnout.

"Lovely. Well remember that when we arrive back at the school, you're all to wait patiently with me until your parents come to pick you up, okay? Good, let's get moving then."

Arthur sat, and as Alfred quickly grabbed the radio and started the bus on "99 bottles of _milk_ on the wall" (This of course earned the driver a small chuckle from Arthur) the teacher didn't even bother to attempt to read his novel. This time, he let Alfred have his fun; and he didn't get remotely agitated.

* * *

><p>Arthur watched as his last student drove away with his father. Finally this day was over, and he could go home and make a nice cup of chamomile tea, and take a long hot bath and-<p>

"So, Mr. Kirkland."

The teacher turned at the noise, but was surprised to find the bus driver standing before him once again.

"Alfred? I thought you left an hour ago when we arrived."

The young blonde smiled a tad and brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

"Oh well... I was. But then I went inside to get a snack, and what do ya know? An hour's passed!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Alfred's cheeks pinked just a bit as he relented.

"Well that... and I was maybe waiting for all the kids to leave."

Arthur's eyes widened a bit at this, as he stared at the young bus driver.

"Wait for all the children to leave? What on earth for? Did you need to tell me something? I'm so sorry, if one of them caused a problem or mucked up your bus or-"

Alfred let out a small snicker but then quickly cut the other man off.

"No, no, it wasn't the kids, Artie," he paused and flashed him a tentative smile. "I just wanted to wait so I could maybe... ask you out for coffee?"

Arthur blinked a few times, wondering if he heard that correctly.

"Did you just ask me out on a date?" the teacher asked skeptically.

"I'd say so, yes," Alfred grinned. "I definitely won't drink and drive though, even if it's only coffee. But of course feel free to say no! I'm just really serious about that rule an-"

"Alfred," Arthur shook the bus driver gently to regain his attention. "T-that sounds lovely," he answered with pink tinting his cheeks. "Thank you for waiting until the children left."

"No sweat!" Alfred replied now completely ecstatic. He slapped a hand on the bus that was still parked in front of them. "So what time can I pick you up in _my ride_?" Alfred accented, motioning to the bus.

"Seven o'clock. And Alfred," Arthur said as he started to walk toward his own car in the parking lot. "If you pick me up in that contraption, you're dead."

The comment was followed by a smile, and Alfred returned it tenfold.

He couldn't wait for them to write their own history.


	13. Secret Admirer

_A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. (This story is really long enough to stand on its own, I just never posted it here because I'm not sure what to think of it.)_

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Secret Admirer

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** A Harry Potter crossover, in which Arthur keeps receiving strange notes from a secret admirer.

* * *

><p>It started on a random Wednesday evening. It wasn't my birthday, or Valentine's Day, or any other day that might compel one to send a note. No, it was simply a random weekday when I returned to my dorm room and found a white piece of parchment rolled up and tied with a red ribbon on my bed. I ran a hand through my hair, exhausted, and picked up the note.<p>

"Ivan, did you leave something on my bed?" I asked as I took off my robe and undid my tie. "There's a strange note here."

Ivan, another Slytherin who shared the room with me, looked up from a book he was indulging himself in.

"Ah no, it was not me. It was there when I entered."

"Oh...," I responded rather confused. I changed into my pajamas and got into bed.

"Are you going to read it?" Ivan piqued up again, and I looked from him back to the note.

"I suppose so, yes. I just wonder whom it's from."

"Well read it and find out."

So I did. I unfurled the letter and scanned it over.

_I'm not really good at these things but... I'm gonna try and say it anyway, ok? Here we go:_

_Do you know how cute you are? With those bright green eyes and little red nose. Gosh, you look like Rudolph when you get cold! I've seen you out in the stands at the quidditch games. You never look at me though... and I wish you did. I've definitely got my eyes on you all the time. _

_-A secret admirer_

My cheeks flushed up, and I think Ivan noticed as I scrambled to hide the note away in the pages of one of my potions books.

"Who's if from?" Ivan asked suspiciously, and I just pulled my covers over my head to hide my burning face.

"No one. Goodnight Ivan."

He didn't question me further. That is, until the next note showed up.

* * *

><p>I was already staring at him as I made my way to the Great Hall and to my seat at the Gryffindor table. I walked pretty quickly to take my usual place where there was a perfect view of the left end of the Slytherin table, and more importantly, Arthur Kirkland. Yes, the handsome, smart, and very much cranky, Arthur Kirkland. I sighed as I took my seat eyeing the blonde, whose eyes were never on me.<p>

"Alfred. Allllfred. Helloooooo?"

I shook my head and found my brother Mattie waving a hand in front of my face. He smiled when he caught my attention.

"I was wondering if there was anyone in there," he grinned playfully as he rapped his knuckles across my forehead. I laughed, but gently shook him off.

"Knock it off, Matt."

My brother did as told and took a seat across from me. When he stopped for a moment to adjust his yellow and black scarf, I'd already gone back to being mesmerized by Arthur.

"What are you looking at?" I didn't notice as my brother frowned and followed my gaze. He caught sight of who I was staring at, and looked back with a sly smile. I realized this and tried to shake my head out of my reverie, but I doubt Mattie bought it, considering I could feel the heat in my cheeks.

"Arthur Kirkland?" he asked surprised and arched an eyebrow. "Wow, I mean I know you're the Gryffindor seeker and you think you can have anyone you want, but really? Arthur is that last person I would've thought you would have a crush on."

"Matt! Shut up!" I hissed and kicked him under the table. I tried to ignore as my face flared up. "There are other people here!"

That part was true. The self proclaimed Gilbert 'Awesome' Beilschmidt had already taken a seat next to my brother, though he seemed to be having his own conversation with a few others beside him. Matt rolled his eyes, and kept talking despite my pleas.

"Look Al, calm down. I honestly don't think anyone will care if you have a crush on a guy... who happens to be a Slytherin."

"Matt!"

"Alright! Alright! Chill," Matt said as he looked back at the table surrounded by green and silver. He turned back to me. "I just think that you should tell him if you like him, ok? Don't try and keep this a secret because you're afraid of what he might think. If you do that, you'll never find out his feelings."

"Thanks, Matt. I'll keep that in mind."

But I was already way ahead of him. For the past two weeks I'd been sending Arthur... secret love notes. It'd taken me a while to come up with a plan, but finally I'd concocted one that would not fail. I would write anonymous notes to Arthur, and when I was sure he was out of his room, I would send Eagle (She's my owl) to deliver the letters. It was a perfect plan really. I could crush on Arthur all I wanted and he would never know that the secret notes were from me.

"He'll never know," I repeated to myself and frowned. Is that really what I wanted?

I lifted my gaze back to the blonde whose bright green eyes matched his robe and tie. Suddenly I was smiling again.

* * *

><p>An innumerable amount of curses went through my mind as my potions partner was announced.<p>

_"Arthur Kirkland will be working with Alfred F. Jones."_

Lovely. I have to work with the human characterization of egotism. I walked over to the Gryffindor, who was all smiles, and glared down at him.

"Are you coming?" I asked, and Alfred immediately brimmed.

"Sure thing, Artie!"

And so he followed me to a table. I started to prepare everything we would need when an annoying voice broke my concentration.

"So what're we making?" Alfred asked, as he bounced on the souls of his feet. I gave him a once over; dark blonde, blue eyes with spectacles, and quite the fit body considering he was the Gryffindor's seeker- not that that impressed me or anything. I turned away, refusing to acknowledge my pink cheeks. I certainly did not find Arrogance F. Jones, attractive. No, of course not.

I distracted myself by readying the rest of the materials and answering Alfred's question.

"We're making a forgetfulness potion," I remarked. "Weren't you paying attention?"

Alfred let out a hearty laugh and looked directly at me.

"Oops, guess I forgot!" he smiled, and I had to turn away again to hide my face.

I reached down to pull out the potion book that was needed. As I flipped through the pages, I didn't realize as a small scrap of paper fell to the floor, or as my partner bent down to retrieve it.

"What's this?" Alfred questioned as he inspected the note. I looked back at him, and when it dawned on me what it was, I immediately snatched the letter away. I must have been imagining the fact that his cheeks were just as bright as mine.

"Nothing!" I tried to cover up, but while Alfred seemed shocked, he didn't buy it.

"Was that... a love no-"

I kneed Alfred in the gut to get him to shut up. After all, I didn't want anyone else to know about these silly, yet embarrassing little messages.

"Hush," I whispered, as he looked at me confused. He held a hand to his aching stomach, but looked at me challengingly.

"Only if you tell me who they're from," he whispered back and raised his eyebrows.

My face pinked, as I didn't know how to respond.

"I don't know whom they're from," I whispered quite low, and I'm fairly sure Alfred had to strain to hear it. "They're from a secret admirer..."

I must have again been imagining Alfred's awkward expression as he tried to smile at me but looked rather nervous.

"Do you... have any ideas?" Alfred asked almost anxiously, though I can't imagine why. Maybe he was just excited about spreading rumours.

"None," I said resolutely, effectively ending that conversation. I swiftly hid the note away amongst my other class memos, and we ignored the topic for the rest of class.

When I got back to my dorm that evening, there was another note waiting for me.

"Someone's got a secret lover!" Ivan mocked, and I just barked curses at him until he stopped laughing.

I unfurled the note and read it.

_So I realized today that you're even cuter up close. Your emerald eyes match your robe, and your feisty attitude really just makes me laugh. Don't think poorly of me though, I love that you can make me laugh so easily. It's one of the many, many reasons why I have my eye set on you._

_-A secret admirer_

I tucked the note away, along with the two others I'd already received, and curled up in bed. I fell asleep to the embarrassing thought, that maybe, just maybe, it was the Gryffindor's rather handsome quidditch seeker that was sending me these notes.

* * *

><p>Man, am I a lucky guy. Last week Arthur was assigned to be my potions partner, and I think we really hit it off. Well... I mean if you consider me laughing pretty loudly, and Arthur blooming like a rose, hitting it off. Anyway, during that session I'd caught sight of one of the secret notes I sent to Arthur. I tried to play it off when I saw it, but both Arthur and I flustered. I wondered why he did that. Was he embarrassed? Or worse? Did he suspect me? Oh god, I hope not. We were just getting to know each other!<p>

Anyway, I'm even luckier than I originally thought since I caught Arthur in the hallway today. He was heading into the library when I flagged him down.

"Hey! Artie!" I yelled from down the corridor and flailed my arms. He rolled his eyes, but I don't think he was ticked off at me since a small smile flickered across his face. "Arthur," I said and grinned when I got to him. "You look happy today."

Arthur quickly averted his eyes and blushed. Damn he was cute.

"Yes, well I always get quite excited when I'm about to do research for herbology," he glanced back at me and motioned to the library entrance.

"Really?" I asked and deadpanned. "I don't really like that kind of stuff. I wanna learn how to fight the bad guys!" I said and started having a play fight with the air, dealing it small punches and kicks. I saw as Arthur smiled ever-so shyly, but the grin quickly fled his lips when he caught me staring.

"I was being sarcastic, Alfred," he said and leveled me a look.

"Oh right!" I answered with a thumbs up and grin. "Gotcha!"

Arthur simply rolled his eyes again and made to move toward the library.

"Right well, it was nice seeing you Alfred, but I really must be going."

I don't know what possessed me at that moment, but I reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Arthur, wait!"

He looked back at me both shocked, and expectantly. I faltered with my words.

"Artie, I, uh, that is to say-"

But suddenly my words stopped and I felt a heavy presence on my shoulder. I turned my head and found that Eagle had landed on my shoulder.

"Hey Eagle!" I smiled at my owl. She must be back from her last delivering spree. Arthur cleared his throat, and nodded to the library again.

"I really must go."

"Wait, wait, before you go," I said, trying my best not to derail this time. I ignored the fact that my cheeks were warm. "Umm Arthur, I was just wondering if maybe, you'd uh, like to hang out sometime at a quidditch match? I mean, as long as I'm not playing or anything. You know cause... we couldn't really hang out if I was playing- I mean we could try but it probably wouldn't work and umm... yeah."

I tried to save myself with a laugh but I think it just came out kind of awkward. Though when I looked to Arthur, he simply nodded, with his face also bright red.

"I'd like that," he said in that adorable little voice of his. Then he stole away into the library.

I don't think I could've been any happier than at that moment. I ran off to the commons room to write Arthur my next letter.

* * *

><p>By the end of the month I had 10 ten secret admirer notes hidden away amongst my books and personal belongings. And by the end of those four weeks, as much as I hated to believe it, I had a very, very small crush on Alfred Jones. I'm not sure what came over me... perhaps when he asked to hang out last week outside the library. For some reason in that moment I felt elated. I'd said yes, and Alfred grinned. I'd fled to the library where I couldn't stop smiling myself for the three hours I was in there. But I when I returned to my room, and found another crisp note tied up on my bed, my happiness faded. Of course I was flattered that someone was taken with me, but enough was enough. Who was this person, and were they really too embarrassed to face me about it?<p>

That night I'd gotten an idea. A rather brilliant plan to find out who was sending me these mysterious notes. I tried on previous occasions to catch the culprit, but no one ever appeared while I was in the room. If I'd leave to eat, or get a book however, a new note would magically appear.

"Well this will be the end of that," I said and smiled at the polyjuice potion I'd brewed. My planning was simple; if the culprit won't show up while _I_ was room, perhaps they wouldn't mind showing themselves while someone else was there. "Brilliant if I may say so myself."

I poured a bit of the potion into a mug and took a sip. I quickly made my way to the mirror to watch the transformation take place.

In the reflection I watched as my hair grew down to my shoulders, and lost the messy tangled look. I felt myself rising, slightly as I grew a bit taller, and I witnessed as my eyes transformed from their usually green to a bright sea blue. When everything was finished, I took a look at myself and sneered in the mirror.

"Francis."

Sadly, he was the only person I could acquire a strand of hair from. The fool was always carrying around a hairbrush.

Regardless of that, I continued with the plan, moving over to Ivan's side of the room and started fiddling with his things. I'm not sure what or who I was waiting for, but I just tried to waste time and make myself look natural. Of course, that was rather difficult when I was excited and also overcome with anxiety. I couldn't believe I skipped class.

In the midst of my mini-panic attack, I heard something quietly enter the room. I turned quickly, and thank goodness I did, because that owl flew swiftly in and out of here, barely having time to drop a note on my bed. I did catch sight of the owl though, snow what with a few light brown markings scattered on its wings and back. Of course, many people at the school had owls, but this one seemed familiar for some reason.

"Who's sending me an owl while I'm not here?" I pondered aloud as I made my way to my bed and tore open the note.

_Arthur, do you know how happy you've made me? Just the smile on your face makes me the happiest guy alive. Won't you grin for me more often? I don't think you realize how beautiful you are when you do so. Man, I really hope I can see that smile a lot more in the future._

_-A secret admirer_

I looked away from the note a furrowed my brow. Who was this person? My eyes fell back down to the text and scanned it over once more. It was on the second read through that I noticed the male noun.

"Guy?" I questioned myself. "A male who fancies me? Who on Earth woul-"

And then it hit me. The owl I'd seen, she belonged to Alfred. And the word "guy", and the silly notes!

"It's Alfred!" I told myself, and almost fainted. But before I passed out, I got another idea.

* * *

><p>I made my way back to my room pretty worried. Arthur hadn't showed up for class today, and when I looked for him in the dining hall he hadn't been there either. I hoped he was okay, really, I shouldn't be worrying, right? I told myself that over and over, but my mind just kept wondering back to him.<p>

I sighed as I stepped in from the commons room to my dorm. I moved quickly to my bed, ready to dive head first into the covers when I saw something. It was bright white, contrasting the red covers.

"A note?" I wondered as I unfolded it and sat down. I read it through once and paled.

_You're not very good at keeping a secret are you, Alfred?_

My face lost all its color, and as I was about to burst through the room, back down the corridors in an attempt to find him, I was instead stopped by his voice.

"You know, you could have simply told me to my face. We really didn't need to go through this secret admirer nonsense."

I turned around and found that Arthur had appeared out of nowhere.

"A-Arthur! What are you doing here? You're not allowed in here!"

"And I'm fairly certain it's against the rules to break into the Slytherin dorms as well, regadless of the fact that you did it by owl."

I frowned deeply at this. Crap, when had my plan gone wrong? Everything was looking so good until-

"What are you frowning about?" Arthur questioned me with a small but kind smile.

I looked away from him and mumbled:

"You weren't suppose to find out..."

"Then how would I ever tell you that the feeling is mutual?" he responded barely audibly, but I caught it as if it had just come out of a loudspeaker.

"I- you- whaaaaat?" I asked confused, and watched Arthur snicker as he tried to subtly hide his red cheeks.

"I like you too, Alfred... well once I get past the arrogance."

"Hey!" I retorted, but suddenly I was all smiles. "Do you... really mean that?"

Arthur shyly nodded his head, and I was so ecstatic I pulled him in for a giant bear hug. When we pulled away I noticed that his eyes were on me, finally, and I couldn't help myself as I leaned in to kiss his cheek.

Now his eyes are always on me. In the stand during games, in class, or when we sit across from each other and secretly play our little game of footsie under the table during mealtime. Now everyone knows, and no one minds. Who knew it would all stem from a little secret?


	14. A Right Mess

**Title:** A Right Mess

**Warnings:** Subtle hints of Spamano

**Summary:** America hosts a Christmas Party which proceeds to go terribly wrong.

* * *

><p>"This is gonna be great, this is gonna be great, this is gonna be so freaking great!" Alfred remarked to himself as he removed a homemade apple pie from the oven. "This is gonna be the best Christmas ever Matt, and I'm telling you, this year I'll get Arthur under the mistletoe."<p>

The Canadian smiled softly, as he helped his brother set up the snack table in the dining room, adjacent to the kitchen.

"That's great, America but-"

"Gosh, it's gonna be so epic. England'll just standing there really cute, and I'm gonna grab him and just lay one on his lips. He won't even know what hit him, and we'll keep kissing passionately- well actually we'll keep it PG since you're here, but I bet Francis will make some sleazy comment and-"

"Alfred."

"Gosh why did you even invite France anyway? You know I wanted it to just be my brother and beau this year for Christmas, didn't you?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry, but Alfred-"

"I hope he doesn't mess anything up. Let me see if I still have that bottle of Merlot, that should keep him occupied-"

"Alfred!"

The cheery blonde finally turned to his brother as he set his pie down on the table. Matthew sighed quietly now that he had his brother's attention.

"Alfred, about the whole 'just my brother and beau' thing."

"Yeah?"

"Well you know I invited France, right?"

"Yup, sadly," Alfred replied with an eye roll.

"Yes well," the Canadian reached up to rub the back of his heating neck. "Francis... may have invited a few extra people."

Alfred froze for about ten seconds before he all but screamed at his brother.

"WHAT?"

"It was just a few more people! Just Gilbert and Antonio, I think!"

America face palmed himself as he returned to the kitchen.

"Yeah but Matt, who knows who they invited? The whole world might show up for this party now."

And they did.

* * *

><p>Alfred tried to force a smile on his face as he answered the door. Already almost 15 nations had arrived including England. The elder nation was quite surprised to see so many guests when he initially arrived.<p>

_"My, I didn't realize you'd planned such a big event. Though, I should have expected it from you."_

_ Alfred pouted as he and Arthur observed the ruckus already taking place._

_"Actually it was just supposed to just be you and my brother, but Mattie decided to invite everyone."_

_ England sent him a dubious look._

_"That's unlike your brother. Are you sure that-"_

_ A ring from the doorbell, as Arthur just finished hanging up his coat; Alfred cursed his luck. Quickly he pulled his boyfriend in for a quick hug, and went off to answer the door with a:_

_"I'll catch up with you later, alright, Artie? Make yourself at home."_

And here was America, at the door watching as Germany and the Italy brothers entered his household.

"Hey guys! Glad you could make it," he lied, peppy enough.

Alfred received a swift nod from Germany and Romano, and a high-pitched greeting and hug from Feliciano. He welcomed them inside, where Prussia quickly grabbed hold of his brother to deliver a noogie, and Antonio sprung for Romano. Feliciano just as easily made his way to the buffet table.

America glanced about his apartment and realized that just about every nation was there. Somehow Matthew had managed to turn his small Christmas get together into an international affair. Well- he was hoping that's what it would be anyway, but under different pretexts of course! No matter, at least now that everyone was there he could attend to England, and hopefully his plan would still work.

America cupped a hand in front of his mouth, let out a breath and took a sniff. He grimaced for a second, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He popped a tic tac in his mouth and smiled.

"Perfect. Now I'm minty fresh for my kiss with Arth-"

"America!"

The young nation was caught off guard as Finland grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously.

"How have you been this Christmas? Lots of shopping I bet! I always do lots of Christmas shopping, so much, because I love to give gifts to everyone!"

Alfred smiled shortly and continued to do so as Tino rambled on about Christmas for a good thirty minutes. He didn't want to be rude, but America really did want to spend some time with England rather than listen to how nice Finland's sauna tradition was. He held on, nodding his head politely for another five minutes and was about to cut the conversation short, when there was an outburst from behind him. Alfred turned to find England and France under the mistletoe, as the French nation attempted to land a kiss on Arthur's lips. The Brit of course would have none of it.

"Get off me, frog! I refuse to kiss the likes of you!"

"Oh but mon ami, we have found each other under the mistletoe and it is only tradition that we kiss."

"Tradition my arse!" Arthur shrieked as he managed to untangle himself from France's hold. He looked around quickly for something to defend himself with and grabbed the first item he found; which happened to be Alfred's homemade apple pie. When Francis took another step closer, Arthur threw the pie in his face and smirked.

"Bon appetite, arsehole."

Some of the other nations had been watching as well and were either smiling or laughing at the scene that had just played out. England on the other hand seemed annoyed as he marched off, to a quieter part of Alfred's flat, and America was torn between following him, or helping Francis clean himself up.

"That was such a waste of a pie," he mumbled to himself as he went to fetch France a towel. He'd deal with him first and then find England.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later America was knocking on the door to his own bedroom.<p>

"England, I know you're in there. Open up."

A few moments passed and there was no response. Alfred started banging on the door.

"Arthur, dude! It's my room, let me in!"

He leant forward to push on the door and as he did, it opened. He would have fallen flat on his face had Arthur not been there to catch him. Alfred looked up, and the moment he caught the other one blushing, he was immediately pushed away.

"Your room is a disaster, you know that? It looks like a tornado blew through here," England mumbled as he picked up a dirty shirt and started folding it.

America chuckled quietly as he closed the door.

"I always thought it was pretty funny that you clean and organize stuff to let off steam. I should piss you off while you're visiting more often."

England stopped in the middle of attending to a pair of briefs to glare at the American. Alfred just smiled as he took his hand and led him to his bed.

"I'm kidding," he assured as the two of them sat. America looked at him earnestly. "Look, I'm really sorry about France. I wanted to come talk to you, but Tino just kept going on and on, and I didn't want to be impolite."

"It's alright," Arthur held a single finger to America's lips. "Really I should have expected it from him. It probably would have happened regardless of whether or not you where there."

Alfred frowned for a second before he pulled England closer.

"Hey, that would have never happened under my watch. I'd never let anyone touch my beau."

A light pink dusted both nations cheeks as they looked at each other.

"Hey, Arthur... I uh... I know there's no mistletoe in here, but I was wondering if maybe I could..."

"You don't have to ask my permission to kiss me, idiot... you are my escort."

Alfred let out a short laugh before he leaned in, and Arthur did as well. It wasn't exactly what America had in mind, but it was still close to perfect as their lips almost met and then-

_CRASH._

Arthur jumped back, and Alfred fisted his hands in frustration.

"What was that?" England inquired as he got up and made his way to the door.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it's dead."

* * *

><p>The two English speaking nations made their way into the living room to find chaos. The grand Christmas tree that America had had set up in the corner was toppled. Shattered ornaments, pine needles, candy canes and tinsel littered the floor. Nearby some countries had gathered to gape and try to figure out exactly what happened. The trio of friends Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis, who had been looking at the tree just a moment earlier went back to some drunken caroling. America wasn't sure, but he had a feeling this incident had something to do with them.<p>

Alfred strolled over to the mess on the floor where he found Hungary looking rather concerned. Her glance kept shifting from the disaster on the ground to Alfred's leather couch and back.

"Liz, what happened here?" he asked still a bit astonished. "I leave everyone alone for what, five minutes, and the tree becomes firewood?"

Hungary looked at him sadly and then motioned to Prussia.

"It was Gilbert's fault, though I suppose it was an accident. The three of them were singing, and weren't paying attention to where they were going. Gilbert stepped on your cat's tail, and the poor thing ran right into the tree. It fell and now he is hiding behind your couch."

Alfred sighed and turned back to Arthur. The Brit frowned as he walked toward the couch, trying to coax out Crumpet.

"Alright thanks, Liz," America said as he made his way to the front of the room. Enough had happened tonight, and he really just wanted everybody gone.

He clapped a few times to get the other nations' attention, and when that didn't work, he stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out the most obnoxious whistle imaginable. Crumpet flew out from behind the couch and ran into a nearby corridor, and every single nation, drunk or sober, turned to regard Alfred.

"Hey guys. It's been nice having ya, and I hope you all have a great Christmas, but-"

_Ding-dong!_

America cursed his luck for the second time today. Really? Every time he tried to take action and do something important tonight, he was interrupted.

"Excuse me for just a second."

He swiftly made his way to the front door, eyes widening as he opened it.

"Officer?"

"Sir, we've gotten calls of loud music, screaming and other noises coming from your household."

Alfred sucked in a breath and bit his lip to prevent himself from taking out all his fury on the officer. This was gonna be a long night.

* * *

><p>Two hours and a very persuasive explanation to the cops later, Alfred bid the last unwanted guest goodbye. Now the only ones remaining in his apartment were his brother and England, the way he'd originally planned.<p>

"Alfred, I'm really sorry. I didn't intend for any of this to happen."

"Matt, it's fine, really. I'm just glad everyone is gone..." Alfred replied as he flopped down on his couch.

"Right. Well, I guess I'll get going too then. Merry Christmas, Al." Canada proceeded to put on his coat and with a simple wave to his brother he exited the flat. This left England as the only reaming person.

"I suppose I should take my leave as well," Arthur said after a few moments of silence. He was moving toward the door when Alfred took hold of his wrist and held it tightly.

"Wait, no, I mean- Look Arthur, I had really wanted to spend Christmas Eve with you and just..." he turned away for a moment before looking back up at England. "Stay a little longer? It's cold outside."

Arthur smiled tenderly as he let Alfred lead him back to the couch.

"It's cold outside? That didn't stop your brother from leaving."

"Yeah, well, Mattie's used to the cold," America retorted as he pulled England onto his lap and flipped on the TV. "Besides, it's my duty to keep you warm."

"Is it now? Well you're not doing a very good job," England said with a smirk and moved to nuzzle America's collarbone.

"No?" he answered. He paused for a moment to reach up and pull a blanket over them. "How about now?"

"Still could be better," Arthur smiled into America's neck. The taller of the two frowned and started to sit up.

"Well do you want me to jack up the heat? Cause that's really the only other thing I can think of right now."

England huffed as he pulled the American back down.

"No, no. Please don't get up. There is another way..." Arthur mumbled, and soon it hit Alfred like a ton of bricks. A devious smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I know what this is. You want me to kiss you, don't you?" Alfred replied with a smirk. England blushed just a bit but held firm.

"What? No. When did I even ever insinuate that I'd want to snuggle or snog with someone like yo-"

But Arthur was cut of my an extremely short kiss. America pulled back almost instantly.

"That was your free sample. If you're interested in purchasing the rest, it'll cost one rude but endearing comment," America said with a smirk.

"Oh you are such an arsehole..."

"That'll do!"

America squeezed England tighter and brought their lips back together. It was sweet and romantic, and Alfred couldn't help but think he'd throw a hundred more parties and deal with the police a thousand more times if this is what he would get in return. England was the best Christmas present he'd ever receive.


	15. Stargazing

_A/N: The next seven stories are from my participation in Sweethearts Week over at the USUK Community on Livejournal. Day one's prompt was close to you :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Stargazing

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** The King and Queen of Spades pause for a moment and watch the stars.

* * *

><p>"Another treaty with Diamonds?" Arthur mumbled to himself as he scanned over the brief. The bags under his eyes were beginning to make themselves known, but Arthur refused to give up just yet. "Goodness... with this many contracts why don't we just merge the two bloody kingdoms?"<p>

He started to read, only to get frustrated not even halfway through.

"They want us to cede more land? That Frog, I will never for the life of me understand how he became king!"

Aggravated, the Queen scrunched up the document and threw it into the wastebasket. He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm down, glancing at his watch as he retracted his hand.

"Two in the morning? Good god," Arthur sighed, and started to rub his temple. "When did this job become so stressful?"

"When you made it stressful."

Arthur turned in his chair to find the King, adorned in a pair of elegant, blue, silk pajamas, standing in the doorway. He was smiling slightly, though he bit his lip as if anxious over something.

"You haven't come to bed yet. I started to worry," Alfred said as he approached. Arthur smiled tiredly at him before looking back at his stack of papers.

"Yes, well, unlike you, I take my responsibilities as royalty quite seriously."

"Hey, I take my role seriously! But that doesn't mean I overwork myself doing it."

Alfred lay a hand on his Queen's shoulder and squeezed gently. Arthur glanced up silently and blinked at his King.

"I know, love, I just..." he paused not quite knowing what to say. "I'll come to bed just as soon as I've finished with these," he assured as he motioned to a stack of papers. The King frowned, as he grabbed Arthur's arm, effectively lifting him from his chair.

"No, you're done for the day. Come on."

Arthur really would have struggled more had it not been so late. The King led him into their bedroom where he released his arm and gave him a light push toward the dresser. Arthur walked toward it almost mesmerized as the King made his way toward the massive window that mirrored their bed.

"Where are you going?" the Queen asked, as he made his way to the bureau and removed a similar pair of royal blue pajamas. He dressed quickly, fiddling with the buttons several times as his eyes glazed over with sleep.

"Just getting a little air," the King replied as he took a step out onto the balcony.

"At this hour?" Arthur called, pulling on his sleepwear.

"Look who's talking, Mr. Workaholic," Alfred answered with a slight laugh. It was quiet for a few moments, and as the Queen was about to climb into bed:

"Hey Arthur, you should come out here. It's beautiful outside."

Arthur sighed knowing his fate. If he didn't appease Alfred, the man would never come to bed. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and made his way out onto the balcony.

"What is this nonsense you wish to show me-"

The Queen squealed as an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him flush up against the King. Alfred grinned happily as he pressed a chaste kiss to his Queen's forehead. He pulled away, grinning and watched as the Queen's cheeks brightened.

"Alfred, I am really not in the mood for your games tonight," Arthur told him, though he shyly pecked his King on the cheek.

"I know, and you've gotta get some rest, but I just wanted to show you something," the King replied just as easily and pointed up at the night sky. "Look at the stars."

The Queen did as told, and glanced up into the dark blue sky. Golden stars were scattered along the blanketed night, shining brilliantly down on the kingdom. When he looked hard enough, Arthur even spotted a few constellations in the sky as well as the slivered crescent moon. He smiled tenderly as he reached for the King's hand.

"You do realize that the stars come out every night, don't you?" the Queen inquired as he tangled his fingers amongst the King's. Alfred's hand was cold in the night, and Arthur's heat transferred quickly. The King squeezed his hand gently as he replied.

"Yeah, but for some reason I think they become ten times more beautiful when shared with you."

The Queen turned, a slight flush peppered across his cheeks, and playfully hit his husband.

"Nonsense."

"Not to me it's not," he said with a smile, and Arthur couldn't help but return it.

"A fool you are, it's amazing you became King."

Alfred let loose a laugh as he turned to face his partner. The shining stars were mirrored in his eyes and captivated Arthur. He smiled gently at his King, cherishing the sweet moment.

Of course Arthur had never meant what he said; Alfred was and always would be a terrific monarch. He was sweet and kind, but also charismatic and a powerful leader. People trusted him, they knew he would guide the kingdom to triumph, but would also stay true to it in times of trouble. Arthur would never admit it aloud, but he was proud to rule along someone like Alfred; it was an honor to do so.

"Ah, well, so be it. I'm glad that I'm a fool," Alfred answered with a soft chuckle as he squeezed Arthur's hand and started leading him back inside.

And needless to say, there were other reasons why Arthur thought of his King so highly. Arthur had definitely not been Alfred's parents' first choice as Queen, but Alfred insisted, claiming he would not take the throne unless he was permitted to marry the person he loved. His persistence had finally swayed his parents, and the two were married, and took the throne not long after.

Arthur glanced at Alfred sidelong, just in time to catch another vibrant grin spread across the man's face.

"And why is that?" Arthur answered as the King shut the door and led him to bed.

"Well don't you know, Arthur? Only fools fall in love."


	16. Magical Encounter

_A/N: Day two's prompt was once upon a time._

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Magical Encounter

**Warnings:** Mentions of war and violence

**Summary:** Alfred meets someone on the battlefield who changes his life.

* * *

><p>Damn it, why did I even decide to enter the army? Why didn't I just try and make it on my own? I could have tried to be an apprentice, or maybe I could have even mastered my own trade, and really if all else failed I could have been the village idiot. No. Of course not, though. I chose to join the Royal Army. I might like to think that I had other opportunities, but in reality I didn't. With no family and no income, the army really was my only option. Shelter, food, protection, and the status of a Royal soldier? It was great... until war was declared.<p>

I was one of the lucky ones. Some of the men said I had a talent with a bow and arrow and I guess they were right. I'd come out of every battle nearly unscathed; that is, until one day.

We'd been marched eastward, about 3,000 of us as a decoy. We were outnumbered by a good thousand, but our generals had a strategy. If we went in and sacrificed ourselves as bait, a battalion of about 8,000 would attack the enemy from the rear. They would be caught off guard, and this battle may even end the war. But of course, the price for victory was high, and it was paid in human blood. Including mine.

I fell not ten minutes into the battle. As I'd readied my bow and arrow, an enemy soldier had come from behind and dealt me a stab right in between the ribs. I hit the ground immediately, clutching my side as my fingers became encrusted in scarlet blood. I wasn't trying to stop the bleeding, if only the pain. That was the end, I was sure of it, and as such I let out a screech of agony. Someone should know I died in a heap of pain. I waited to see the light, but in fact, I never did.

In a moment there was someone beside me, and I scrunched my eyes tighter figuring the soldier had come back to finish me off. When I felt a hand touch my body, I jerked away in a vain attempt to save the time I had left.

"Easy, lad. I'm with you. Please just stay still for a moment."

At that I peaked an eye open to question who was speaking to me. Words were never exchanged on the battlefield, as that was simply taboo.

At my side kneeled a man, with his hands pressed to my chest. He was wearing a tunic of red and silver, the colors of our kingdom, so I knew he was trustworthy, yet I never remembered encountering him anywhere.

"Go fight..." I choked out. "Take my weapon."

It was then that he turned towards me and I got a better look at him. He was about my age, with golden hair and bright green eyes, though those were not the features that had my eyes widening in surprise. I did a double take, after blinking away what I thought to be hallucinations, and realized that what was in front of me was real. The man before me had pointed ears, a sign of magic and of the fey. I stared at him in shock, after all, ever since I was a young boy I'd been told that the fey were just a thing of legend.

"You... you're," I tried but only managed to get myself into a coughing fit.

"Yes," the boy answered without me even finishing my statement. "I'm of the fey. Now hold still."

I did as he told me and watched as his hands lit up in a soft glow. I felt a strange tingling in my side and closed my eyes as he transferred his magic into my body. Within a moment, the pain subsided and I opened my eyes again to find my side patched up; all the blood had disappeared. I stared at him in amazement.

"I had no idea you actually existed..." I mumbled, now that I had regained the ability to speak.

"No one does. They locked our kind away years ago, and only release us when it is a benefit to them." He motioned to where my stab wound had vanished. "I was born into captivity, and they've let me out only as a healer."

I furrowed my brows and without realizing it, I reached out to touch him. He looked back at me curiously and didn't say a word as I ran my fingertips over the tips of his ears. When I realized what I was doing, I pulled away and glanced at him sadly.

"I'm sorry," I said, not sure if I was apologizing for my actions or the acts of the kingdom.

He shook his head slightly and moved to stand up.

"Wait!" I called and he stopped in his tracks. I stood up and matched his emerald gaze. "Thank you..."

"Arthur."

I cocked my head. For some reason I'd been expecting a much stranger name.

"Right, well, thank you, Arthur."

He gave me a swift nod and ran back into the chaos, presumably to look for more injured. I picked up my bow and arrows, and followed suit.

I never caught sight of him again, and when the war ended not long after, I started to lose hope. I searched around desperately, but when I asked people of the fey healer who was a part of the company, they looked at me as if I were delusional. I would never meet him again, though I continued searching. If I had learned anything from my encounter with the fey, it was that life is precious, and so I dedicated my existence to studying texts of the fey, and researching magic. To this day I continue to investigate, and search for where the fey are kept locked away. I keep looking, because somewhere inside I know it is my duty to Arthur. He saved my life, and it is only fair I do the same for him. But for now I continue searching... and whenever I am in doubt, I just remember to believe in the magic.


	17. Fairytale

_A/N: The prompt for Day 3 was taking care of business._

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Fairytale

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Professor Jones pays a visit to his colleague.

* * *

><p>"Professor Kirkland," a tall and self-assured man called from the doorway. He was leaning against the wood, undoing his tie, as he stared at the man in question. "Staying late again, I see. Are you still reading your fairytales?"<p>

Opposite the man in the doorway, Professor Kirkland sat at his desk, rifling through a stack of papers. There was an empty mug that once held tea in front of him, as well as a few framed photos and a small ceramic unicorn balanced on his desk. He looked up at the man standing before him and smiled, ever so cynically.

"Ah, Professor Jones. It's nice to see you as well."

The tall blonde walked slowly into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He tugged off his tie, sticking it in his suit pocket as he smiled at the other professor.

"You know I told you to call me Alfred."

Professor Kirkland looked back up from where he had been marking up a paper.

"Is that so? Well you know I've told you to not call my field of study 'fairytales.'"

Professor Jones leaned his head back and laughed.

"Professor of mythology? Really Arthur? What do you study, the role fairies play in society?"

The shorter of the two men turned his head up to glare.

"I'm sorry we can't all be professors of astrophysics. You'll have to forgive me."

Alfred smiled softly, as he moved forward and started to clear off a corner of Arthur's desk. He took a seat, his grin only growing as his counterpart rolled his eyes at him.

"It's okay, I know how hard it is to understand. The simple-minded tend to think of science as magic," he said with a playful wink.

"Are you insinuating something with that comment?" Arthur snapped, removing a ruler from his desk. He held it up to Alfred, not-so-subtly demanding that he move. Alfred held his hands in the air innocently, but rose from the desk nonetheless. The younger professor walked around the mahogany desk to stand beside Arthur.

"Not a thing," he assured with another wink, and casually stuck his hand in his pocket. A few moments passed as Arthur returned to grading, but Alfred couldn't be kept quiet for long.

"So do you actually study fairies? And unicorns and all that jazz? You do realize it would be physically impossible for-"

Arthur stood and held a hand to Alfred's lips.

"I don't want to hear it," Arthur told him matter-of-factly. "None of your free fall, velocity and acceleration statistics. They will change absolutely nothing."

Alfred let loose a smile as Arthur pulled his finger away from his lips.

"So you do listen when I'm talking to you," he said with a grin, as Arthur stared back at him. "I always thought that your mind was just wandering in space when I go on my physics rants."

Arthur clucked his tongue in response as he grabbed a butterfly clip, and stuck his stack of graded papers into his briefcase. He fiddled with a few more papers and a pen as he replied to the other professor.

"Yes, unlike you, I respect your field of study and try to keep up my end of the conversation," he tucked the rest of his articles into his briefcase. "But mythology will always be where my heart lies, you know that."

He snapped his briefcase closed and returned his gaze to the other professor.

"Now, is there something I can do for you Professor Jones?" Arthur asked as he rose from his seat. He matched the other's gaze, and smiled knowingly. Alfred took a step forward so the two of them nearly stood chest to chest.

"Yes, actually," he answered as he wrapped an arm around the other's waist. Arthur made no move to remove it. "Let me take you out to dinner," he said with a sly smile.

Arthur let out a small cackle before he brought a hand to Alfred's face. He ran his thumb along the taller man's cheek gently.

"You know I'd love too," he said in a hushed tone. "But I have to finish my report on the _fairytales_ I'm quite fond of."

Alfred frowned as he wrapped his other arm around Arthur, capturing him in an embrace.

"I'm sure the faeries can wait. As can the elves and the unicorns, and mermaids," he whispered in Arthur's ear. "Come on. Dinner, my treat, and I promise I'll refrain from talking about centripetal motion for the duration of our date."

Arthur let out another quiet giggle, and glanced up into Alfred's eyes.

"So charming," he said sarcastically shaking his head. "Though when in you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

Alfred smiled in victory before pressing a kiss to the crown of Arthur's head.

"Awesome," he replied as he stepped back, and took Arthur's hand in his own. He turned back to smile amusedly at his partner. "I told you science always trumps over magic."

"Hush," Arthur responded as he picked up his briefcase with his free hand, and let Alfred lead him to the door. "Watch what you say, because one day, you will overstep your bounds, and no amount of science will be able to help you out."

"Well ya know, I could use a time machine and go back and-"

Arthur paused as he turned off the lights and shut the door to his office.

"It would take a miracle," Arthur said, keeping his gaze firm. "Magic would be the only thing that could save you."

Alfred smiled as he took hold of the man's hand again, and started leading him through the mazelike corridors of the building.

"Well ya know what? I don't really care how our story plays out as long as we live happily ever after."

Arthur blushed slightly as he followed.

"I thought you weren't one for fairytales."

"I'm not," he said and playful tapped Arthur's nose. "But I do like the one where I end up with you."


	18. Two to Tango

_A/N: Day four's prompt was holidaymaking._

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Two to Tango

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred tries to switch up the couple's movie night with something new.

* * *

><p>"Arthur, I am so sorry I'm late!" Alfred rushed out, as he closed the door and ran into the living room where his boyfriend was seated. Arthur rose from where he'd been doing some embroidery on the couch, looking none to pleased.<p>

"Where have you been?" the Brit asked with a frown. "Tuesdays are our movie nights, Alfred, or did you forget?"

"No, of course not!" he assured, as he brushed away Arthur's fringe and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I just thought that today we might do something different!"

Arthur raised a brow questioningly, and Alfred quickly pulled something from his pocket.

"A CD?" Arthur asked, then upon closer inspection. "A tango CD?"

Alfred's grin grew, as he walked over to their stereo.

"Remember a few months ago when you told me you used to take dance classes when you were a kid?"

"Alfred-"

"Well I started to take tango classes! Now we can practice dancing together!"

Alfred looked at his partner for a moment, noticing the complete seriousness in his features, and then let loose a snort. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, as he smiled and retook his seat on the couch. Alfred on the other hand didn't see what was so funny.

"Hey, why are ya sitting down?" he asked, after popping the CD into the stereo. A smooth rhythm pervaded the air.

"Are you serious?" Arthur asked, looking up from his needlework. "You can't possibly have thought I took _tango_ lessons as a boy!"

Alfred frowned, staring down at Arthur.

"Well sure I did... I take it that wasn't the dance you learned?"

Looking up, Arthur caught sight of that frown and puppy dog eyes, and couldn't help but smile back up at his counterpart.

"Love, I grew up in England. The extent of my lessons included waltzing, and a bit of tap."

"Oh..." Alfred said a bit deflated as his shoulders slumped. "I should have known. Sorry, Art."

Arthur stood, with a small smile on his face, and locked eyes with Alfred.

"Did you honestly take lessons so you could dance with me?"

Alfred glanced back with a genuine look in his eyes and nodded.

"And you did it in secret? Without telling me?"

Alfred bit his lip, the tone in Arthur's voice making him feel a bit guilty.

"Well yeah... but I did it because I wanted to surprise you! I wanted to do something you'd think was sweet and romantic..." Alfred trailed off, looking down as a bit of pink dotted his cheeks.

Arthur too, couldn't help but blush at the sight of his adorably embarrassed boyfriend. He lifted a hand to Alfred's chin, tilting it up, and smiled tenderly.

"Alfred," he said with small smile playing on his lips. "If you would be willing to teach me, I would love to learn how to tango."

In an instant, Alfred's eyes brightened, and his smile grew to expose all his pearly whites.

"Really?" he asked excitedly, and Arthur simply nodded in response. He ran over to the stereo, fiddling with the track numbers, until he found one he liked and made his way back to Arthur.

"Okay so we stand pretty close, like chest to chest," he said with a sly grin as he pulled his lover right up against him. Arthur flushed but let out a small giggle.

"Alright, and then I wrap this hand around your waist," he said, and squeezed the Brit a bit tighter. "And then you put your arm on my shoulder, and wrap it around my neck."

Arthur did as told, and Alfred smiled, pressing another quick kiss to his mop of unruly hair.

"Awesome! Now you stretch out your other hand," he instructed, and Arthur followed through once more. "And we hold hands, and now we can start dancing!"

The couple started to move slowly, Arthur doing his best to follow Alfred's lead. It wasn't all too hard though, and except for when Alfred tried to do some extravagant step, or extremely rapid legwork, Arthur was able to keep up. The first fifteen minutes was quiet except for the passionate rhythm, as Alfred focused on teaching, and Arthur did his best to comprehend. About twenty minutes in though, both of their focuses had shifted to something else.

"Alfred, you know," Arthur started off rather quietly. "This is... actually quite romantic."

He smiled lightly at his partner as the two continued to dance around the room.

"Sweet! That means I get laid tonight, right?"

Arthur let go of his grip on Alfred for just long enough to smack him upside the head.

"Ouch!"

"Don't ruin the mood," he said, though a smile was evident on his lips. Alfred let out a soft laugh and agreed, but then abruptly dipped Arthur, making the shorter man gasp.

He leant forward and caught their lips. Arthur, though having to balance in a rather awkward position, kissed back forcefully, and wrapped an arm tighter around Alfred's neck. When the taller of the two pulled them back up, both were smiling, and Arthur had a dusting of a blush across his cheeks.

"Better?" Alfred asked, as he wrapped, both arms around Arthur's waist; the proper positions for the dance forgotten.

"Much," Arthur responded, by tangling his fingers amongst Alfred's hair. There was a devilish smile on Alfred's lips, and his eyes though focused on Arthur, were glazed over with lust.

"You had this all planned out, didn't you?" Arthur whispered, as Alfred started to trace his fingertips over the Briton's back. It didn't take long before one of Alfred's hands made its way under Arthur's shirt and was heating up his flesh very quickly.

"No!" Alfred answered with a grin, that quickly dissolved into some desperate chuckles. "Alright... maybe. But a guy has needs you know!"

Arthur let loose a laugh, and placed a chaste kiss on Alfred's cheek.

"Movie night wasn't doing it for you?" He said in a seductive tone, running his fingers along Alfred's neck.

"N-not especially, and w-well-"

Arthur had started to press kisses to Alfred's collarbone, and the man began to lose it.

"Arthur! Stop teasing, come on!" he yelled with a bright red face, and obvious need.

Arthur only smiled as he ran into the bedroom.

"Well come on then! It takes two to tango."


	19. If You Believed in Me

_A/N: Day five's prompt was music of my heart. Sorry I keep forgetting to update this!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to the song. All rights go to the respected owners._

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> If You Believed In Me

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Arthur acquaints himself with the young entertainer at a local bar.

* * *

><p>Arthur deserved a drink. He'd spent the whole day walking, strolling along the French Quarter in search of work. He'd been in New Orleans only two weeks, but with luck he'd been able to find work today. It seemed things were looking up, and he thought that called for a drink; one beverage wouldn't hurt anybody.<p>

Music wafted down every alley of the quarter. At random, the Brit took a turn and entered the first bar he came upon. The atmosphere was nice and relaxed, a few people were chatting, and others were smoking or playing cards. As he ordered his drink, Arthur took notice of the entertainer up on stage. There was a young guy, couldn't be more than twenty, with golden blonde hair, and specs, singing his heart out as his fingers swept over the piano keys.

_Say, it's only a paper moon__  
><em>_Hanging over a cardboard sea,__  
><em>_But it wouldn't be make believe__  
><em>_If you believed in me._

Arthur smiled, the tune was familiar to him from before the war. It was a nice song to dance to with the ladies at the local pub. He shook it off and turned back to the bartender.

"A J.D and Coke, please," he asked, only to jet a perplexed look.

"A what?"

Oh that was right, it wasn't called that in the States was it?

"Ehm. Jack Daniels and Coca-Cola," Arthur offered, and the bartender laughed in understanding.

"Oh! A Jack and Coke! Why didn't you just say so, stranger?"

Arthur smiled, and nodded, as he waited for his drink. In the meantime he turned back to the lad onstage.

_Yes, it's only a canvas sky__  
><em>_Sailing over a muslin tree,__  
><em>_But it wouldn't be make believe__  
><em>_If you believed in me._

The man caught sight of Arthur. He smiled at him as he sang the next verse.

_Without your love,__  
><em>_It's a honky-tonk parade.__  
><em>_Without your love,__  
><em>_It's a melody played in a penny arcade._

"Alfred's pretty talented, huh?" the bartender spoke, sliding Arthur's drink across the counter. The Brit turned to regard him.

"He is," Arthur agreed. "Young though."

"You're pretty young yourself!" the bartender answered with a smile. "But yeah, Alfred's had talent since he was a boy. He's always wanted to be an entertainer, but when he got back from service he thought that dream was ruined."

Arthur turned back to look at the man on stage. He furrowed his brows quizzically.

"Why's that?" he inquired, glancing back at the man behind the counter. He frowned gently before motioning towards Alfred.

"I'll let him tell ya about it."

Arthur nodded, as he took his drink and made his way to the front of the bar. He found a seat right before the stage, and situated himself, listening as the man continued to tap away at the keys.

_It's a Barnum and Bailey world,__  
><em>_Just as phony as it can be,__  
><em>_But it wouldn't be make believe__  
><em>_If you believed in me._

His voice was light and airy, but he sang with a bright exuberance and passion in the words. He'd clearly practiced time and time again; it was evident with how nicely his voice flowed with the music. Arthur, in fact, was so entranced with the man and his voice, he barely noticed as he sang the last verse.

_But it wouldn't be make believe__  
><em>_If you believed in me._

The man played the last few notes and then took his hands off the keyboard, resting them in his lap. A few people clapped, Arthur included, and the young man smiled at him from above.

"Thanks everyone! I'm gonna take a short break, but then I'll be back to finish up the night."

Arthur watched as the man got up, slowly, leaning on the piano for support. It wasn't until Alfred reached to the right of the piano though, that Arthur caught sight of the crutch. The young performer lodged it under his arm, and carefully stared limping across the stage. He made his way down the stairs, slowly, and waddled over to Arthur's table. The Brit stared at him a bit wide eyed, finally comprehending.

"Hey there, stranger! Mind if I take a seat?"

"Oh, please do," Arthur assured, and moved to pull out a seat for Alfred. The younger man stopped him though, holding out a hand and laughing.

"No worries, I got it."

He pulled out a chair, and sat down slowly, stretching his injured leg and resting his crutch against the small wooden table. He stared at Arthur a moment, taking him in with his eyes, before he continued the conversation.

"Watcha drinking?" Alfred started with a smile, that Arthur returned.

"Ah, I believe it's called a Jack and Coke in this country," the Brit answered, with another small smile.

"Aye, you're a Brit! Haven't met one of you in what, three years? Not since the war ended. Watcha doin' here?" Alfred asked with genuine interest. Arthur was happy to answer the boy.

"I... wanted to try something new. I lost basically everything in the war, family included, and I needed to start anew. America seemed like a good place for that."

Alfred smiled at him gently, the dim lighting accentuating his childish features.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly. "War's not fun for anybody. It's a shame we have to go through it."

There was an awkward silence in which no words were passed.

"Did you... fight?" Alfred asked quietly.

Arthur looked up at him with glum eyes.

"Yes. Just infantry though, nothing glorified like the fighter pilots or paratroopers."

Alfred let out a laugh before he answered the man.

"Hey, I was infantry too! A bit unfair since we bear the brunt of the work, and don't get the ladies."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at that, as he smiled at Alfred.

"True," the Brit agreed, still grinning at his newfound mate. "The bartender told me your name was Alfred. It's nice to meet you."

The young lad smiled in return as he stuck out his hand and shook Arthur's.

"Well that'd be correct, Alfred F. Jones, ordinary infantry soldier," he said with a grin. "I haven't gotten your name though."

"Arthur Kirkland," the older man answered him. "Also, commonplace infantry man."

"Swell," Alfred replied with a small chuckle. "Well it's great to meet you, Arthur. Let me buy us a round to celebrate our new, ordinary friendship."

Alfred yelled an order at the bar tender, and soon enough he came around with two pints.

"Ta," Arthur said, and Alfred winked. He held up his glass.

"To us," the American toasted. "Two of the most run of the mill people in the world," he paused and turned to Arthur. "And to a new friendship."

"I'll drink to that."

They smiled at each other, then gulped down two more pints each before Alfred returned to the stage. Arthur watched him for another hour, and at the end of the night, assured him he'd be back to visit tomorrow. Over the next three years, drinking buddies would become best friends, and later even more.

Arthur had earned himself a drink that night, but he ended up with much, much more.


	20. I Promise

_A/N: Day six's prompt was worlds beyond. (An AU of your choosing.)_

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> I Promise

**Warnings:** Rather angsty

**Summary:** Alfred has news for Arthur, but the Brit has a sad surprise for him as well.

* * *

><p>"Arthur, Arthur!" I called ecstatically as I ran inside and shut the door to our apartment.<p>

Arthur was gonna be so proud of me. We'd been living together now for two years, though pretty modestly. It was pretty hard as it was, keeping our secret. Arthur didn't work; he didn't want to risk someone figuring out that two men were living together, supporting each other, and being more than friends. He feared what might happen to us, and that was fine, because in all honesty I did too. So Arthur would stay at home, do the chores, sometimes leave the flat to go shopping, but that was basically it. I had to bring in the dough to support both of us, and it was pretty hard only having a low paying factory job. But that's what I was so excited to tell Arthur about. I'd gotten a raise! We could afford more now! I could finally buy my love some luxuries he's always wanted.

Arthur and I met five years ago. He'd come overseas with the premise to study and we'd met in town. I wasn't much for school, but I worked in my dad's shop downtown. Arthur stopped in one day and we got to talking... and I guess we never stopped. He kept studying, and eventually I got a job at a nearby factory and started to support myself. I bought an apartment and asked Arthur to move in with me. When he agreed, I became the happiest guy on the planet.

So time passed. Arthur finished his studies and hung his diploma on the wall, and eventually his visa expired. But Arthur didn't move out, oh no, I made sure of that. We moved again, to make sure no one would find him, and Arthur lived with me secretly. The landowner of the new place was a kind man, also foreign, and he seemed to pity us. He promised to keep quiet about everything and somehow that was enough. Just having Arthur around, to hug and kiss and make love to was enough. Everything was alright, and with this new raise it was about to get better.

"Arthur!" I called through the halls again. "Artie, I've got some great news!"

That was odd. Usually Arthur always came to the door to greet me. I frowned as I toed out of my shoes and slipped off my jacket. As I was hanging my coat up in the closet, I heard something. It was a soft and quiet sound emerging from our bedroom, but I couldn't quite identify it. I finished with my jacket and made my way to our bedroom door, pausing when I heard the sound again. This time it was more defined and I could tell what it was; Arthur was whimpering.

"Art, are you okay?" I asked as I knocked on the door and walked inside. Arthur was curled up in a blanket on our bed, sobbing erratically. He was biting his lip and trying to control it as he looked at me, but tears continued to roll down his cheeks. I ran over and threw my arms around him. Arthur never ever cried like this.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" I tried to ask gently, rubbing his back. He leant forward, into my chest, and continued to cry, wetting my already sweat-soaked shirt. I continued to pat his back, and whispered reassuring words. I kissed his ear and the tip of his nose a few times, but he just kept on sobbing.

"Shh, Arthur, everything's gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be alright."

I don't know what it was that I said, but that seemed to set Arthur off. He sobbed harder, and I frowned, feeling completely useless in the situation. I don't know how long I sat there, trying to comfort Arthur, and failing miserably. All I could do was hold him close, squeeze his hand, and wait for the onslaught of tears to stop. Eventually they did let up, as the cries turned to whimpers, and ultimately Arthur stopped making any noises. I shifted uncomfortably in the silence, my eyes glued on Arthur. Not a second later, he looked up at me, eyes puffy and red, and reached a hand out to touch my face. He ran his fingertips along my cheeks and nose, over my eyebrows and forehead, and finally my lips. I glanced at him confused, and he returned the stare with a look of sadness and desperation.

"I love you," he whispered hoarsely, as he forced a smile. "I love you so damn much."

I answered with furrowed brows and my own distraught smile. I still had no idea why Arthur was crying.

"I love you too, sweetheart," I said as tenderly as I could. I brushed back some of the fringe and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you more than you could ever imagine."

I thought now would be a great time to let Arthur know about the good news; maybe it would make him feel better.

"Hey, Arthur, guess what? I talked to the boss like I promised I would, and he's giving me a raise! He's bumping up my salary 10%. Isn't that great? Now I can buy you those books you wanted, and maybe we can buy a new radio too-"

And I'd managed to screw up for a second time. At some point while I was talking, Arthur had started to tear up again. I frowned and held him tight, as he buried his face into my chest once more. I was stroking his back lightly when I saw it; a piece of paper lay on the floor, wet in few spots from what I presumed were tears. I let go of Arthur for a moment to pick it up, and he leaned back to see what I was doing. When he saw what was in my hands, he frowned, and started to wipe at his eyes. Worried, I flipped the paper over and quickly scanned it over. My eyes widened, and within seconds I suddenly realized why Arthur had shed so many tears.

The paper... it was a draft order. I had a week before I was to be shipped off to a training camp, and from there, onto London. I'd been called up to fight.

I looked up and found Arthur smiling ever so lightly.

"Don't die on me, alright?" he asked in a near whisper. "I love you and you're not allowed to die."

"Arthur..." I said gently but pulled him into a tight embrace. I squeezed him as tight as could, and this time, I buried my face into _his_ shoulder. "I won't, I promise. Anything for you."

And I damn well meant those words. I would do anything for Arthur... including cheating death.


	21. Hallmark Holiday

_A/N: Day seven's prompt was Valentine's Day. Also, this is last story I've got stockpiled! I'll continue to update this randomly whenever I get the urge to write something short and sweet :)_

_And to all of you who have reviewed any of the stories thus far, thank you! I'm glad you like them and I hope they will continue to please you!_

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Hallmark Holiday

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred surprises Arthur on Valentine's Day.

* * *

><p>Arthur bit his lip as he mentally judged the pros and cons of buying a pack of digestives.<p>

_"You deserve it. It's the start of a new week, go on treat yourself."_

So he did. Though as he reached out to grab a pack of chocolate covered goodies, his phone happened to go off. The rhythm of _Happy Together_ by the Turtles, emanated from the aisle, and a few other shoppers turned to look at him. Arthur flushed a bit embarrassed, but quickly answered, knowing it could only be one person.

"Ah, you managed to remember the time difference for once," Arthur greeted, though he was smiling. Light laughter came from the speaker as Arthur put the biscuits in his basket and continued down the next aisle.

"Oh, that was one time I called you at three in the morning! And with valid reason!"

"Alfred, calling to tell me they were cancelling Jersey Shore, is hardly a valid reason."

There was a huff on the other end of the line, and Arthur continued to fill his basket with goods.

"Alright, fine. Anyway, back to the reason I called."

"Yes, do tell," Arthur said, while examining two different boxes off tea; he wound up stuffing both into his basket.

"I wanted to wish you a happy Valentine's Day, Arthur!"

The Brit smiled softly, though his boyfriend was not there to see it.

"Oh, you with your Hallmark holidays," he tried to sound apathetic, but his tone came out rather sweet.

"Aww you like it, don't kid yourself, Art. Did you get the roses I sent?"

Arthur thought back to this morning, when he'd opened the door to find a vase full of roses on the porch.

"I did, yes. Thank you, love."

"No problemo. And I got the package you sent! It came a bit early, and I ate that whole box of German chocolates in a day!"

Arthur chuckled for a moment, before he responded.

"I don't know if I should be elated that you enjoyed the gift, or repulsed that you downed so much expensive chocolate so quickly."

Alfred could be heard laughing, and Arthur smiled as he made his way to the registers.

"Listen, Arthur, where are you?" Alfred asked all of a sudden, and Arthur raised a brow.

"Quite the random question, but I'm at Sainsbury's. Why do you ask?"

Arthur could hear Alfred fidgeting on the other end.

"No reason. Just wanna make sure you're safe!"

Arthur let out a sigh as he started to load his items onto the conveyer belt.

"Yes, well then, now that you know I'm safe, I really do have to get going, Alfred."

"Oh, sure! So are you going home after grocery shopping?"

"I might, if you ever allow me to hang up the phone," Arthur said cynically yet with a large grin firm on his lips.

"Right! Okay, well I'll see you soon then. I love you!" Alfred said. Arthur thought nothing of it.

"Goodbye, love," he smiled as he hung up the phone. Quickly, he paid for his items and made his way back to his flat.

* * *

><p>Arthur knew something was up the moment he arrived home. Everything seemed to look normal and in order, but something felt wrong to him. He closed the door slowly, and walked into the kitchen to put his groceries away. But then he noticed something in the wastebasket, as he was in the midst of opening up his cookies. On top of the rubbish lay a paper bag from McDonald's. Arthur frowned at it, confused. He hadn't had McDonald's anytime recently. That could only mean that either someone had broken into his house to throw away their garbage or more likely-<p>

"ARTHUR!" came from behind the Brit, as he was immediately scooped up and twirled around. He was spooked at first, but then he recognized that voice and smiled.

"Alfred, put me down, I'm getting nauseous!"

Alfred did as told and returned his now, very dizzy boyfriend to the floor. He threw his arms around him and placed a quick kiss on his lips, before pulling away with a smile.

"What are you doing here, Alfred?" Arthur asked worriedly, quickly trying to make his hair look presentable. The American just laughed, and ran a hand through Arthur's locks, effectively messing them up again.

"I wanted to surprise you on Valentine's Day!"

"Alfred, I thought we discussed that there would be no surprise visits-"

"Arthurrrr," Alfred whined, as he pulled the shorted man closer to him once more. "I know that's what we agreed on but... I needed to see you, okay? And Skype was not gonna cut it. So I figured..."

"You are the most adorable, idiot," Arthur said shaking his head. "I don't even want to know what the plane ticket must have cost."

Alfred laughed a bit uneasily, and then pressed another kiss to Arthur's cheek.

"Well let's just say... I can't really afford to take you anywhere but McDonald's tonight."

Arthur chuckled and leaned into the hug.

"Dinner will be my treat then," he said in a small whisper, but Alfred caught it and squeezed him tight.

"Sweet. Well I can definitely cover desert then," he said with a wink, and Arthur flushed. "Or we could just cut to dessert right now."

Arthur dealt him a light punch, though he was smiling.

"Can't you at least try to be romantic on Valentine's Day?"

Alfred huffed in response.

"I flew across an ocean for you! I'd say that's pretty damn romantic!"

The American looked at his counterpart quite seriously, but within seconds the two of them had melted into a fit of giggles. They stood in the kitchen, laughing in each other other's arms, before finally they managed to calm down.

"Dinner then?" Arthur asked, and Alfred smiled wide.

"Sure!" he winked at Arthur before running towards the door. "So long as you're not cooking!"

Arthur chased Alfred through the apartment and halfway down the street to berate him for that comment, but when he finally did catch up to him, he tugged on his arm, and pulled their lips together. Alfred smiled, and Arthur returned it into their kiss.

"Happy Valentine's Day, love," Arthur whispered, resting his head against Alfred's.

"Happy Valentine's Day."


	22. Because we have Chemistry

**Title:** Because we have Chemistry

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred helps Arthur as he struggles with chemistry.

* * *

><p>I glanced at the clock with worried eyes. Damn it, only five more minutes. For five more minutes I would be safe in the realm of history; a place where I understood what was going on and felt like I could contribute to intellectual conversation. History was fairly easy for me, and though surely I couldn't get by without studying, the point was that I could understand and make do... as opposed to my next class. Fourth period was the worst of the worst, a horrible realm I would be sucked into where things didn't make sense, and I would become disoriented, lost, and forced to fend for myself. Okay, well, perhaps that's exaggerating the point just a bit, but I really did hate chemistry.<p>

Not a moment later the bell rang, signaling the end of the block and I cursed under my breath. I scribbled down my history homework, packed away my binders and pencils, said goodbye to my professor and headed toward my impending doom.

The chemistry and science rooms were in the left wing of the building, far from all the other classes. I made my way toward my chemistry room prolonging my dreaded reality by stopping to shuffle some things around in my locker and then pausing at a water fountain for a drink even though I wasn't thirsty. But the time came, and I had to face the inevitable, immediately taking a seat in the back of the room. Usually, in other classes, I didn't mind sitting in the front. I loved asking questions, participating in discussions, and found learning fun to be frank. But chemistry was different. I hardly wanted anyone to see as I struggled to solve the problems, and so I sat in seclusion, wallowing in my own misery.

I watched as the other students sauntered in languidly, though none looking as horrified as me. Part of why I hated this class was that everyone around me seemed to know what was going on. I was the only one in the room who couldn't keep up with the talk of moles, polar, covalent and stoichiometry things, and ugh, just thinking about it made my head want to explode. Plus there was one more reason I dreaded this class, and he was smiling at me as he entered the room.

"Hi Arthur!" he squeaked as he slid his backpack off his shoulders and took the seat next to mine. This always happened, and even as I would move to different seats around the classroom to try and avoid him, that cheery smile and obnoxiously optimistic attitude would follow me everywhere.

"Hello," I mumbled out in an effort to be polite.

He sent me a thumbs up before pulling out his notes. Out of the corner of my eye, as Alfred Jones opened up his folder, I caught sight of the last quiz we'd taken, with his sloppy hand writing, and a bright red grade of 35/35 written at the top. I frowned at the sight and turned my attention back to the front of the room. I tried not to think of the fact that I'd only gotten a 21/35 on that quiz, a bloody 60%.

"What do ya think we'll do today?" Alfred asked animatedly, always oblivious to the fact that I had no interest in talking to him.

I sighed and answered quietly.

"I'm not sure."

Alfred's mouth formed a line, and as he was about to say something, the bell rang again signaling the start of a new period. I sucked in a breath and got ready. It was only an hour; I could survive sixty minutes of hell.

The professor made his way to the front of the room and rolled up his sleeves. He was a tall man, balding in the front, with specs and rather lifeless hazel eyes.

"I hope you're all aware that we have a test next class," he started much to my annoyance. Yes, I was painfully aware. "And as such, I've decided to make today a review day."

He moved toward his desk and picked up a stack of papers.

"I'm going to hand out this review sheet which is due into me before the test. You may work individually or with a partner."

The professor started passing out the worksheets and I casually laid my head down on the desk. Well at least the day wouldn't be too bad. There would be no calling on me for an answer which I couldn't give, or working on a lab and being unable to contribute anything to it. Yes, today should be fine except for-

"Hey, Arthur, do you want to work together?"

It wasn't really a question since Alfred had already pulled his chair up to my desk. He was grinning brightly and twirling his pencil between his fingers.

Let me just mention now, that another reason I really didn't like Alfred Jones was because he was just so, well, attractive. And not to say that I despised him for his good looks, but it just made me that much more self conscious around him. Not only was he good at chemistry, but he was pleasing to the eyes; the boy that all the girls fawned over.

"Uhm..." I took the sheet the professor had handed me and glanced over it. I didn't even know how to do the first problem.

"Alright, so this seems pretty simple. All we've gotta do is balance the equations and identify what type of reaction took place," he smiled and scribbled his name down on the paper. "Let's do 1-5 then check back with each other to see if we got the same answers."

I tried to get a word in, but Alfred was already immersed in the problems before I could even open my mouth. I frowned and glanced back at the first question.

_P + _O2 - _P2O5

I bit my lip, frustrated that already getting discouraged. How did you do this? I racked my brain for answers, but before I could think of one, Alfred's head popped back up.

"I finished! Are you done? Can we check answers?"

I furrowed my brows, and I could feel my face heat with embarrassment.

"I'm not done yet," I mumbled, and tried to cover up my worksheet, but it was too late, Alfred had seen my blank answer boxes.

"Hey," he lightly lifted my hand of the paper, exposing a clean paper void of even any attempts at answering the questions. He looked back at me expectantly and cocked his head slightly to the right.

"Did you not get the answers?"

"I told you I wasn't finished," I hissed out, but really did not feel confident against Alfred. He frowned as he looked back at me.

"Do you need help solving these? I don't mind."

He smiled serenely and looked so genuine, even my pride died down a bit to allow me to say:

"Well if you don't mind..."

"Course not, I don't mind helping out a friend."

He winked at me and I felt my face flush once more.

"Thank you..."

"Sure thing. So what exactly do you need help on?"

I averted my eyes, not really wanting to answer the question with "everything."

"Uhmm... could you perhaps start with the types of reactions? I'm still confused about them."

"Of course! I totally understand, those can seem really confusing until you look at them the right way. I'll show you a trick that makes them super easy to remember!"

Alfred flipped over my paper and wrote down the first formula, and he did something odd; he started doodling stick figures under each part of the equation.

"Alright let's start with synthesis since I think that's the simplest.

He finished up his drawings which revealed four stick people drawn under an equation turning phosphorus and oxygen into phosphorus pentoxide and looked up at me.

"The easiest way to think of the reaction types is as dating scenarios!" He let out a short laugh when I sent him a dubious look, but adamantly continued with his explanation. "I'm serious, look!"

Alfred used his index finger to point at the small male stick figure he'd doodled under the P in the equation.

"Okay, were gonna consider phosphorus the guy in the equation. And oxygen, she's gonna be the gal."

At this point I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh, or consider getting Alfred some mental help.

"So if you look at the equation, _P + _O2 - _P2O5 you can see how the two elements bonded right?"

I nodded at him shortly, as I followed.

"Sweet, so we can imagine that phosphorus and oxygen got together and are now a couple!" he moved his finger to the other side of the equation where his two stick figures were holding hands. I blinked for a moment, but nodded in understanding. For some reason, Alfred's odd explanation actually made sense.

"And if we did that backwards," he started doodling the next problem, which was the same equation only in reverse, "Well that's called decomposition."

He glanced up and smiled at me, before tracing the paper again.

"In this one instead of phosphorus getting together with oxygen, they break up!

"_Oxygen you're way too needy_," Alfred suddenly mimed in a low, gruff voice.

"_Hmpf! Well I'll just go find some hydrogen to bond to then_!" he replied to himself in a high pitch, valley-girl accent.

I couldn't hold in a giggle, and it slipped from my lips as Alfred looked up at me with a pleased grin.

"That wasn't even funny. It was just the voices you did," I let out another chuckle and held and hand to my lips to try and control myself.

Alfred was smiling brightly, looking at me with such excitement, as if I'd just told him he'd won an award.

"Did you like them? I can do more!"

He moved onto the next equation, a longer problem which I also was at a loss as to solving.

"Look at this one here, _Al + _H2SO4 - _Al2(SO4)3 + _H2, it's a bit more complicated!"

He grabbed at his pencil and took to scribbling yet again. When he was done, 3 stick figures emerged on each side of the equation, two of which were female, and you could tell them apart since one was wearing a bow. He pointed to H2SO4, under which there were two stick figures; one of each gender.

"Alright so this here is hydrogen sulfate. It was created when hydrogen and sulfate got together," he said pointing to one male and one female doodle.

"_Oh sulfate, I love you so much_!" Alfred squealed in a feminine voice, and I bit my lip to suppress laughter.

"But wait, whose that coming?" Alfred moved his head around, scanning the room as if he were actually looking for someone. "It's aluminum! And I think sulfate has got the hots for her!"

"_Aw man. Check out that babe!"_ Alfred mimicked a bit too loudly, and I had to cover his mouth with my palm to prevent people from staring.

"Alfred, I get it, I get it. Enough with the voices."

I pulled my hand away with a small smile which he returned.

"Right, sorry, well anyway back to the problem. Sulfate sees aluminum and he thinks she's way hotter than hydrogen, so he leaves her and bonds with aluminum," he points to the other side of the equation where the two female stick figures have switched places. "Now hydrogen is all alone."

"How sad," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"It's a cruel world."

I couldn't help my lips from lifting in the corners, and to be honest, I think my opinion of Alfred Jones was starting to change just a bit. Certainly, I still found his attractive looks and exceedingly loud manner a bit annoying, but I couldn't deny how kind he was being, and just how hard he was trying to please me. It made me a bit happier to know that maybe I had a new friend in this class who could help me struggle through.

"So is that reaction called," I paused for a moment, flipping through my notes until I found the right term. "Single-displacement?"

"Yes! Cha-ching!" Alfred said pointing both fingers at me and making money sound effects. I took a deep breath, but smiled, and kindly asked him to quiet down.

And so that continued for about another forty-five minutes as Alfred proceeded to explain double displacement, acid base reactions, combustion (which he of course imitated by making several loud booming noises and drawing attention to us) and the basics of how to solve an equation. By the time the bell rang, I couldn't complain. I understood the material much better than when I'd entered the room, and Alfred even offered to tutor me after school if I wanted. All in all, in wasn't the worst hour of my life, and I hesitate to say it might even have been a bit fun considering I made a new friend.

"Thank you again, for all your help," I offered Alfred my gratitude for about the third time as I packed up my binder, and pencils away.

"Really Arthur, it was nothing. Whenever you need help, just lemme know and I'd be glad to help you out."

He smiled at me as he stuffed his own notes in his backpack, and I cringed at just how disorganized he was. I couldn't hold my scowl for long though, as Alfred's contagious smile made its way onto my face.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow then," I wished him goodbye, as I stood up and slung my bag over my shoulders. I hadn't taken two steps when Alfred bolted up and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, wait a second!"

I turned around to find the open and carefree Alfred that I'd known a moment before gone, replaced by a much shyer boy who was red in the face.

"Yes?" I asked, concerned that something might be wrong. Maybe this was just a onetime thing and he really didn't want to associate with me anymore.

Alfred coughed shortly into his fist, before he answered me.

"I think I've lost my atomic number. Can I have yours?"

I furrowed my brows, confused at what he was getting at.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Alfred let out an uneasy chuckle before moving to rub the back of his neck nervously.

"Are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you."

This time, Alfred's intent was a bit clearer and my cheeks flared up at his request. Still, being a complete horrible chemistry student, some doubt remained in my mind.

"W-wait, Alfred. What are you talking about?"

He smiled sheepishly and moved to play with a loose thread on his shirt.

"Ah the chemistry pick-up lines weren't doing it for you, hah?"

We both stood there staring at each other awkwardly, taking in Alfred's comment.

"Umm so... if you don't think I'm too nerdy or anything already," Alfred started with his cheeks glowing almost as bright as Rudolph's red nose. "Would you be interested in a movie on Friday night?"

So that was how I got involved with one of the most attractive guys in school. It's been a year now, and remarkably two things have happened: Firstly, I managed to pass chemistry, and secondly, I'm still going steady with Alfred. Some people at the school think it odd. Others cheer us on for being openly gay, and dealing with a lot of the crap we get handed. At the moment though, none of that matters so long as we're happy, and Alfred does his damned hardest to make that so. We've been together for 12 months, and each Friday we have a movie night. Sometimes Alfred will cuddle next to me, and whisper nonsense that it was fate that brought us together, but I just roll my eyes at him and responded with the same thing every single time.

"It's because we have chemistry."


	23. No Show

**Title:** No Show

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred can't help but notice the lonely man in the corner of the restaurant.

* * *

><p>The summer between our sophomore and junior year of college, my brother Matthew and I applied to work at this fancy French café downtown. The owner was actually Matthew's French professor who ran the place whenever he wasn't down at the university giving lectures. He seemed to like my brother, and so the two of us sought out some easy jobs. Francis, the owner and head chef, hired us in no time flat, and after learning how to walk straight and poised, and learning how to be a "proper" waiter, I was quickly serving fancy French food whose names I couldn't even pronounce.<p>

"Matt, come on the place is empty! Let me goooo," I whined one Tuesday night in July. "You know I've gotta do that thing… for ya know that class..."

My brother just rolled his eyes as he stacked a few menus to his right.

"It's summer, Alfred. You're not taking any classes."

I rested an arm on the podium where he waited for guests to arrive and pouted. Well yeah, that was true, I didn't really have anything I needed to do, but there were certainly things I _wanted_ to do. I puffed out my bottom lip and pulled out the puppy dog eyes.

"Come on, Matt! Let me off early! There's no one here anyway!"

That actually managed to worry Matt. He shushed me, not so discreetly, and hit me with a menu. He sent me an annoyed look and leaned in closer to whisper in my ear.

"Alfred, shut up! We clearly have a customer!"

He made a motion to the back of the cafe, where a blonde man in a suit sat rigidly alone at a table for two. I frowned and looked back to Matt, responding in my own angry murmur.

"But he's been there for like two hours and he hasn't even ordered yet! Come on, Matt. Just this onc-"

"No."

My shoulders fell and I glared at my brother.

"You suck."

"Yep, now go ask him if he'd like anything."

I trudged off toward the back the restaurant, with my pen and pad in hand, and an annoyed look on my face. As I neared the man, he turned eagerly, and immediately deflated when he saw it was just the waiter.

"Sir, would you like to order now?" I asked in my trained voice, laced in fake courtesy.

He spared a desperate glance at me and frowned again, turning his tired green eyes back to the table.

"No, I'm waiting for someone. They'll be meeting me here soon."

My mouth formed a line and I couldn't help feel just a bit concerned for this guy. He was young, maybe a little older than Mattie and I, but definitely not old. He was done up, wearing a nice gray suit with the a pale green dress shirt and a vibrantly emerald tie. But I won't lie, I'm pretty oblivious and I probably would have thought this was any random guy waiting for a friend or business partner had I not seen the bouquet of roses settled tentatively in his lap.

"You're sure I can't get you anything to drink? We have a fantastic selection of French wines to choose from."

I bounced on the balls of my feet, trying to look friendly and hoping the poor guy would just order something. We all have those terrible days, and I felt the need to stay by him, regardless of the fact that we didn't even know each other. When he looked back up at me, I smiled brightly, trying to be a friendly light, but that only worked to upset him.

"No thank you. I'll just wait until he gets here."

Well that caught me off guard. Hell I put two and two together and figured out he'd been stood up, but that was a curveball.

"Of course."

I nodded and headed back up to the front, no longer annoyed with my brother, but feeling a bit put out. I felt bad for the lonely man in the corner, and suddenly had a guilty feeling swishing around in my stomach, knowing that I too had ignored him earlier.

"Al? What's up?" Matt questioned when I got back up to the desk. He was like lightning when it came to reading me. I'd always thought I kept my emotions pretty inconspicuous, but Matthew could always read me like a book.

I bit my lip as I considered telling my brother. I knew it was taboo to talk about customers behind their backs, but I really did feel the need to tell someone. I cocked me head toward the lonesome man and again leaned in to speak softly.

"That guy over there, I know why he's been here for so long," I said, trying my best to not sound too gossipy. "He's been stood up."

Apparently it didn't work because Matthew sent me a disapproving glare.

"Alfred, what did I tell you about assuming things?"

"But it's true!" I struggled, wanting to use my hands to gesticulate my point, but not wanting to draw attention to myself. "He's got a bouquet of roses, Matt. And he's been all alone in that corner just waiting. It's not that hard to piece together!"

"Alfred."

"He just looks so damn lonely, Matt, like he's still hanging onto the idea that his date is gonna show up, when really... the guy's not gonna show."

For a moment the implications of the word "guy" caught Matthew's attention, but he quickly shook it off, and sent me another look like he was chastising a child.

"Don't meddle in strangers affairs, Al. You could be completely misreading the situation."

"Oh yeah? Who shows up to a fancy restaurant with a bouquet of flowers, and a nice pressed suit, and then sits in the corner, depressed for so long? Someone who's been stood up, that's who."

Matthew sighed, clearly irritated, but I didn't really care.

"Maybe he's waiting for his brother. Or a friend."

I raised a brow at my twin.

"When do I ever greet you with roses?"

Matt just rolled his eyes and went back to his hostess duties.

"Al, make yourself useful in the meantime and wrap up more silverware in napkins," he said, smoothly changing the subject.

"Aww Matt, no! You know I hate that!"

He sent me a tired look and ran a hand through his hair.

"Would you like to clean the bathroom instead?"

I ran off to find some clean forks and knives.

* * *

><p>An hour later I had a basket full of silverware, and that lonely blonde man was still sitting by himself in the corner of the restaurant. I noticed how every time someone walked by the window, or if Matt or I moved around the restaurant, he would turn ecstatically, only to be disappointed. By this point it was 10 o'clock at night, and he'd been sitting there abandoned for three hours. At ten past the hour I couldn't take it anymore, so I went into the kitchen and fetched the sweetest thing I could find.<p>

"Oh, ehm, I didn't order this," the man said startled, as I placed a plate with a fresh éclair in front of him. I pulled out the chair across the table and took a seat.

"I know. It's on the house."

He looked at me confused a moment like he didn't understand my act of kindness. I wondered for a moment how many times this guy had been taken advantage of, because he certainly looked like he'd gone through his fair share of crap.

"Well thank you," he replied hesitantly, unwrapping a napkin and placing it in his lap. He took his fork and uneasily cut a piece of the éclair. An awkward quiet settled in between us, and as he raised his forkful to his mouth, he paused midway with a sudden intrigue.

"I know that I've been here for quite some time, but I meant to ask, did you maybe receive any phone calls to the restaurant requesting an Arthur? Perhaps he forgot my phone number and looked up the restaurant instea-"

"Hey, man, I don't want you to take this too harshly, but I really don't think he's coming."

I tried to let the man down gently, but is melancholy was obvious as he visibly deflated, shoulders slouching, and eyes dulling with reality.

"I know," he whispered, though I'm not sure if it was to me or himself. "It was silly of me to wait this long."

He gently put his fork back down and rose from his seat, roughly throwing the bouquet of roses to the ground.

"It was bloody ridiculous of me to think he'd come! Who would? It's perfectly understandable."

He started fishing through his wallet and a moment later pulled out a fifty dollar bill.

"Here, this should cover the dessert and any trouble I may have caused. I'm so sorry."

When I didn't reach out to take the money, he placed it under a salt shaker and started out towards the door. I didn't realize what I was doing before I had my hand around his wrist and was pulling him back toward the table. He sent me a sideways glance, and I just smiled and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Hey at least finish the éclair. It's getting docked from my pay check for sure, so it should at least go to a good cause."

I let out a barking laugh, and for the first time that evening I saw the man smile slightly. I let go of his arm and he followed me back to the table.

"I really do appreciate your kindness," he said as I pulled his chair out for him and then retook mine across the table.

"Hey, we've all gotta help each other out. It's nothing really." I sent him a grin, and he sent me one right back. He stuck out his hand from under the table, and I shook it willingly.

"My name's Arthur Kirkland. I don't believe I caught yours?"

"Oh I'm Alfred! Though I'm sometimes referred to as the world's best waiter."

He let out a small chuckle and I smiled, feeling happier knowing I'd brightened somebody's day. In a moment, I reached down and grabbed at the fallen bouquet of flowers. I handed them to him and hoped I wouldn't come off as too strong or creepy.

"For you," I said, and he just stared at me completely perplexed.

"Excuse me?"

"You shouldn't waste such beautiful flowers," I insisted until he took the slightly tousled bouquet from my hands.

The bemused look didn't leave his face, and I took that short and still moment to get a good look at my new friend. He was of average height, with choppy light blonde hair and had those very vibrant green eyes I'd noticed earlier. He was also packing some pretty heavy eyebrows, not unattractive, but rather the bushy brows seemed to fit him quite well.

"I'll be right back," I said shortly as I stood and made my way to the wine cellar. I came back with the cheapest bottle of Merlot we had, because honestly, Francis would have killed me if I took anything else.

"Care for a drink?"

I didn't wait for an answer before I used my professional wine-bottle-opening skills and poured us each a glass. I retook my seat, and he raised a brow as he lifted the cup to his lips.

"Are you old enough to drink?" he said with a smile playing on his lips, and I proceeded to tell him that yes, my birthday had been last week, and I'd already drunk enough alcohol to last me a few years.

Arthur was remarkably easy to talk to, and before I even knew it, an hour had slipped by and the bottle had been emptied. At some point Matthew had come over and told me I could go home, but I shook him off and settled back into my conversation with Arthur.

"You actually expect me to believe that the British version of the Office is better?"

"Well it _is_ the original," he replied his voice slightly higher thanks to the alcohol. "The original is _always_ better."

"Bullshit."

I don't know why that was funny, but we both broke out laughing and when Arthur let loose a hiccup after finishing his third glass of wine we laughed even more.

By half past midnight I'd gotten Arthur's phone number; a not so subtle inclination that we'd be meeting again. We left the restaurant, waving our goodbyes and I didn't think much of it as I made my way home and fell face first into my mattress.

I slept till about noon the next day, not thinking much of what had happened the day before. The day was wasted away, playing videogames and napping till at about 4:30 when I pulled on my uniform and got ready for my shift. As per usual, I made my way to the restaurant but this time something felt different. Matt was there getting ready and Francis was cooking up something in the kitchen when I walked in, but alone in that little corner sat Arthur Kirkland who smiled and waved the moment I stepped through the door. Only this time I knew why he was here.

And this time he would not be stood up.


	24. On the Line

_Disclaimer: I don't own Captain America or any of the related characters. Rights go to the respective owners._

* * *

><p><strong>Title: <strong>On the Line

**Warnings: **None

**Summary: **A crossover between Captain America and Hetalia; essentially a prequel to the movie.

* * *

><p><strong>June 1943<strong>

"Arthur?"

"Who else would it be?"

Alfred chuckled idly on the other end of the line.

"True. I doubt Winston would be calling me."

This time it was Arthur's turn to smile as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"I'm amazed you remembered that he's the only other person with a key to this room."

"I still don't understand why you have the only trans-Atlantic telephone down there locked up."

Arthur licked his lips as he readjusted the receiver between his ear and shoulder.

"Nearly 200 now and you still don't understand many things."

"I think it's the stuffy air that's gone to your head, not mine."

At those words Arthur cringed, shrugging his shoulders and swapping the phone to his other ear. He took in a breath to fill the silence as he tried to think of something to say. His lips had begun to curve around the first word as suddenly the room shook and he dropped the phone. For just a moment he sat stark straight before diving under the desk, knowing that would of course be no help to him if the room caved in.

"Arthur? Arthur?"

Alfred's voice, loud and distraught, came through from the hanging receiver. The Briton grabbed the dangling cord as the tremors slowly ceded. He brought it to his mouth, and exhaled again, rubbing his temple gently.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked once more, still sounding troubled.

"I'm sorry. They've bombed upstairs, I dropped the phone."

The sound of Arthur's wristwatch ticking filled the room until Alfred's voice, suddenly much smaller and hesitant, filtered through.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, Alfred. I'm fine," Arthur replied gravely, now rubbing his forehead a bit more forcefully. "But those upstairs are not. I can feel it. There are always too many casualties."

The Brit imagined Alfred frowning then, possibly nibbling on a pencil to calm his nerves.

"Arthur I'm sorry. I wi-"

"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault."

Arthur took that moment to stand back up and situate himself in his chair. Alfred too could be heard shifting, or possibly organizing some papers.

"I love you."

Arthur had heard this nearly a million times so far whenever Alfred thought him to be in trouble.

"Alfred-"

"No don't say that. Don't say that my emotions are confusing reality with imaginary because of the stress of the situation. It's not true, Arthur. I love you, I really love you."

The British nation pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he let out a defeated sigh.

"My brain is telling me I've too much to deal with right now and that I should tell you to piss off, but what's left of my heart is longing to keep this conversation going."

An uneasy laugh was returned from across the line.

"Well you know what my heart's telling me?"

"I'd say 'do tell' but I'm sure you'll let me know me regardless."

There was a short gap in the exchange, and in the stillness Arthur could hear more papers being shuffled at Alfred's desk.

"I miss you."

The Briton closed his eyes, this time not rubbing away any pain, but smiling almost hypnotically at the American's voice.

"I miss you too, Alfred."

Alfred stilled momentarily and Arthur was sure in that moment he was smiling.

"Well I'll see you again soon, right? You're flying out tomorrow."

Within a second, Arthur's smiled vanished, and the frown that had occupied his lips nearly every moment of the last four years returned full force.

"Alfred-"

"Oh God, no, no don't say my name. That means you're not coming."

"Alfred please try to understand. I'm needed here. We don't exactly have a surplus of people to ship out."

"Arthur, no. There's gotta be a way. I'm sure someone can fill in for you for a few days. They'll manag-"

"I'm sending you one of our best agents. She's been debriefed on everything and I'm sure she'll make a great addition to your team at the SSR."

"Arthur! You're supposed to be head of the Strategic Scientific Reserve!"

"Well this is certainly a strategic decision on my part."

"Arthur!"

"I've handed command down to Col. Phillips. You spoke quite highly of him, and he is certainly suited for the position."

Alfred slammed his fist down on his desk and the forceful vibrations sounded through the phone.

"And you did this all behind my back? You can't do that, Arthur! This is an Allied effort!"

"You'd have never given me consent."

"Damn straight I wouldn't have! I'm the United States of America, you can't just leave me out of your decision-making!"

"Agent Carter will depart tomorrow at o 800 hours."

"England!"

There was a pause as neither had addressed the other in that way since the beginning of the war; oddly enough, the destruction and mortality had brought them closer together.

"Arthur, I'm sorry. Please just, try.. try and make arrangements? I miss you terribly."

The Briton sighed once more out of exasperation.

"Alfred, if this plan works, and the serum is successful, the war shouldn't be that hard to win," he let his free hand rap lightly on the wooden desk. "If this works, we will see each other soon."

"Arthur..."

"I want none of that."

"But-"

"But nothing," The Brit answered, meaning to end the conversation. However a short pause followed, after which Arthur spoke again.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

Arthur, who would normally be embarrassed at his flushed cheeks and sentimental words, didn't think twice before he spoke.

"I... I love you and I miss you quite terribly as well. We'll see each other again soon."

"Aw Arthur."

"Stay safe."

"You too, Arthur. You need it more than me."

On that note the weary nation hung up the trans-Atlantic call, gathered his things, and stepped out of the broom closet of a room. He was surprised to find a young woman, short and blonde waiting for him just outside.

"Yes?"

The woman took a moment to adjust her hair and then spoke pleasantly.

"Ms. Carter is waiting for you in your office."

Confused, Arthur pulled back his cuff to check the time and was astonished at what he saw.

"Bugger, I'm twenty minutes late," he said as he started toward his office, the short woman's high heels clicking on the concrete as she hightailed it behind him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't want to disturb you."

Arthur stopped at a crude wooden door, labeled by a simple set of numbers rather than a name.

"Rightfully so, it was an important call," the nation responded, placing his hand on the doorknob. "Thank you, but see to it that from now on I arrange my calls to Mr. Jones with a half hour intermission before I conduct any other business."

"Of course, sir," the woman assured, turning and clicking back the way she came.

Arthur looked back toward the door and promptly turned the knob. Inside, a young woman with shoulder length curls and a pressed white blouse stood up to greet him.

"You're late."

Arthur stumbled in, dropped the articles he was holding and briefly shook her hand.

"Yes, I'm so sorry about that. I got a bit caught up."

"Talking to your American friend?" She eyed him carefully with a sly smile, and for a moment Arthur was astounded by her empowered manner and blunt words.

"Why yes."

"I'd of never thought you of all people would fancy an American," she smiled again, her red lipstick almost glowing in the artificial lighting. Arthur on the other hand was working hard not to fluster and keep up is prim and proper image.

"You'd be surprised. Some of them can be quite charming."

Ms. Carter shifted her leg onto her other knee and cocked an eyebrow.

"I'd argue the point, but it would be no use seeing as you're already quite smitten," she replied, a furtive little grin making its way onto her lips.

Arthur simply nodded as he shuffled through a few files until he came across the manila folder he was looking for.

"Perhaps that's it. But you must admit, they can be quite admirable."

Ms. Carter took the folder that Arthur held out and flipped through it.

"This project should be a testament to that."

"Of course. Dr. Erskine and Col. Phillips have gathered only the best and bravest. I expect you'll help turn them into what we need."

"A perfect soldier?"

"A super soldier."

Arthur locked eyes with the woman across from him and spoke as genuinely as he could.

"Ms. Carter... this could be the key to ending the war. I'm putting a lot of faith in you."

She nodded curtly, standing up.

"I will do my absolute best, Mr. Kirkland."

Clutching the folder to her chest she headed for the door, though not before Arthur could stop her. He stood as well, chair scraping stiffly against the floor.

"And Ms. Carter."

"Yes?" she stood straight and at attention.

"Don't be so quick to judge the Americans," Arthur sent her a small smile before turning back to eye a picture of himself and Alfred which sat lonesome on his desk. "They might be exactly what we need."


	25. Easy Bake Date

_Disclaimer: I do not own Easy Bake Oven or anything related. Rights go to respective owners!_

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> Easy-Bake Date

**Warnings:** Dorkiness

**Summary:** Arthur finds Alfred playing with a childish toy.

* * *

><p>"You did not meet him."<p>

"But I did!" Alfred smirks and refills Arthur's glass of chardonnay. He sits back down as Arthur lifts the cup to his lips.

"Well then do tell, I insist."

Alfred nods as he sits back and tries to recall the story exactly as it happened.

"So I was driving down the PCH and-"

"PCH?"

"Oh yeah I keep forgetting you're not from the States!" Alfred grins sheepishly as his date rolls his eyes. "I know, I know, how could I possibly forget when you're talking with that accent all the time? But anyway the PCH is the Pacific Coast Highway."

"Ah," Arthur nods, as sets his glass back down.

"So I'm driving, and I see this beautiful scene down the road, so I pull over and put the flashers on. I get out and start digging through the trunk for my Nikon, but I guess it musta looked like I was searching for a spare tire or something because someone tapped me on the back, and I turn around, and I swear to you Chris Evans is standing right in front of me."

"Oh pish posh," Arthur says, though he's smiling. "And I suppose he's exactly like the heroes he depicts in the movies, and he helped you find your camera?"

"How did you know?"

Arthur shakes his head and declines to comment.

"If you're trying to impress me, it's not working."

"And what if I told you Chris Hemsworth was also in the car with him?"

At this Arthur chuckles before he finishes what remains in his glass. He stands, picking up his plate, but Alfred panics.

"What are you doing?" he stands as well and takes the plate from Arthur's hands.

"I thought I'd help you with the dishes?" Arthur replies, though curious as Alfred leads him to the couch.

"Hey, I asked you out. And I was the one who prepared dinner, and I'll be the one to do the dishes. Don't worry about it."

Arthur takes a seat on the leather couch and pats the seat next to him.

"Well then do at least come and talk with me until I take my leave."

"I would love to do just that, but you've gotta let me cook you up dessert."

"Oh?" Arthur cocks a brow as he gets a bit more comfortable on the couch.

Alfred grins brightly, and though he's only really known Arthur for all of a few hours, he already loves being the center of his attention.

"Yup, it's my specialty. Homemade devil's food cake with chocolate buttercream frosting."

Arthur's eyes widen a tad, but Alfred can clearly see he looks awed.

"Wine and chocolate cake? You're not trying to seduce me so soon are you?"

Alfred laughs, and leans in toward his date, but in an instant pulls away.

"Wait, can I kiss you before the end of the first date?"

Arthur is left smirking again, but he nods his consent.

"Usually no, but since you asked so nicely..."

The American leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Arthur's forehead. His head feels light for a moment, and though he knows his mother would tell him not to rush things, he feels Arthur might be the one. He pulls back with a smile, then heads to the table to clear the rest of the dishes.

"Make yourself at home," he grins back at Arthur who's already fiddling with his Ipod dock. "It should be done in 20 minutes, tops."

Alfred takes his leave, rushing back into the kitchen with an arm full of dirty plates. He sets them down in the sink, atop an already growing stack of yesterday's dishes, and moves to prepare Arthur's glorious dessert.

He rummages around in the cabinets for a bit before he finds what he's looking for. It's the newest model, and though Alfred's not terribly fond of the new paint job, he absolutely cannot wait to try it out for the first time. He eagerly opens the box, and pulls out the contraption with one of his grandest smiles since childhood.

"The Easy-Bake _Ultimate_ Oven," Alfred whispers fondly, as he runs his fingertips along the sleek plastic surface. "Aww man it's so sweet!" Alfred nearly squeals in excitement.

"Everything all right in there?" Arthur calls from the living room, and Alfred is quickly brought back to his senses.

"Yeah! I just got a little excited about how awesome this cake is gonna be!"

Alfred can hear his date chuckling in the adjacent room, but he has no time to sneak a peek at that smile; he has to bake! Now he has never told anyone, but when he was eight, Alfred received an Easy-Bake Oven from Santa for Christmas. He ripped open the box, and by the end of the day he'd used up all the mixes (including a pack of replacement sugar cookie mixes) that Santa had left. He begged his mother to take him to the store the next day, which she did, and he used all of his birthday money on mixes for his oven. Every day when Alfred returned home from school he would pull out his Easy-Bake Oven and bake the family up a treat. Mind you this started when Alfred was eight, and it didn't stop until he was eighteen.

"Alfred, honey, you really do need to throw that thing away."

"No Ma, it just needs a new light bulb in it. I'll pick one up on the way home from practice," Alfred replied as he unscrewed the dead bulb. "And I'll cook us up some brownies when I get back! How's that sound?"

But his mother clearly wasn't as excited about the chocolaty treats as her son was. By the time Alfred got home, she'd thrown away his Easy-Bake Oven and told him his childish escapades had to stop. And they did, or at least for the remainder of his senior year they did. When Alfred went to college, one of the first additions to his dorm room was a new Easy-Bake Oven. Of course he'd always hid it when his roommate was in, but when he was alone Alfred would cook up cakes and cookies and brownies to his heart's content. Sometimes, just for fun, he'd cook up enough treats for his roommate and friends, and when asked about it, he'd claim he made them in communal kitchen. That continued for four years, and no one ever figured out that Alfred was really baking up goodies in an Easy-Bake Oven. Now Alfred was 26, living in his own apartment, and very excited to try out the latest model of his favorite toy.

Alfred quickly plugs in the oven, and goes to wash the small metal pan he'll be using to make Arthur's cake. Nearly giddy with excitement, he opens the package of devil's food cake mix and pours it into the pan along with a few tablespoons of water. He mixes quickly, not even trying to hide the smile plastering his face.

"All right, now I just grab my handy pusher-puller," he says to himself, realizing it sounds dirty only after he's said it aloud. He snatches the long plastic piece, clawed at one end, puts the mold into it and then pushes the cake into the oven. He sets his watch timer for 12 minutes and moves on to work on the frosting.

Back in the living room, Arthur is still fiddling with Alfred's Ipod, trying to find any sign of a British band that isn't _One Direction_. He eventually settles on a song by _Foreigner_, which is at least semi-British. The music settles around him and Arthur is caught up wondering how on earth Alfred could make an entire cake in less than twenty minutes. Wouldn't it take at least that long to bake, not counting the time needed to cool as well as frost? But what does he know, the last time he tried to make a cake he ended up with some charred bits that in no way resembled the delicious picture in his cookbook.

But something else is also on Arthur's mind and it is increasingly becoming more prominent.

"I shouldn't of drunk half the bloody bottle of wine," Arthur mutters to himself, as he recrosses his legs several times trying to find a relaxed position. He tries to wait it out until Alfred reappears, but when Alfred turns on the tap in the kitchen, the sound nearly drives him insane. He jumps from the couch, trying to figure out which way leads to the bathroom in Alfred's small apartment. Arthur turns to his left, thinking Alfred may have mentioned that the bathroom was there when he'd come in. However he isn't exactly keen on exploring the man's apartment without permission, and after mulling it over for a few seconds he decides to ask Alfred himself. Arthur quickly makes his way to the kitchen, lest he urinate all over Alfred's nice hardwood floors.

"Might you be so kind as to tell me where the-" but the words die on his lips. For Alfred is hunched over his Easy-Bake Oven pushing the finished cake through with his handy pusher-puller. The American's eyes go wide and Arthur nearly bursts into a puddle right there.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Alfred assures, though not before he's pushed the cake out the rest of the way and is letting it rest on a trivet. "I, I-"

Arthur clasps a hand over his mouth and though he desperately wants to laugh, he knows what might follow.

"We'll discuss this later, but please tell me where the toilet is before I piss myself."

With a blush creeping its way up to his ears Alfred points and replies, "Second door on your right."

Arthur rushes off, and Alfred is so embarrassed he's not sure what to do with himself. He quickly tries to pack the oven away if only to save himself from further embarrassment. He pops the cake out of the mold, rinses the metal pan, and just as he's throwing it back in the box, Arthur reappears.

"Homemade chocolate cake?" Arthur cocks a brow as he leans against the doorframe.

Alfred laughs uneasily and tries to rub the hot blush off the back of his neck.

"Yeah well ya know, semi-homemade... I made it at home."

"You didn't even use a real ove-"

"It's a real oven!" Alfred all but shouts, and then frowns once he realizes how childish he sounds. "Well at least... ya know to me it is."

Arthur stares at him perplexed for a moment, before a small chuckle escapes his lips. Alfred looks up slightly annoyed and rakes his hand through his hair, exasperated.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh. I know I'm just a kid in an adult's body, all that junk."

Alfred steps past the chuckling Arthur, and down the hall. He opens the door, and signals to exit.

"I'm sorry I ruined you're evening," Alfred says as his face sours further and he averts his eyes to the floor. He hears Arthur's footsteps and waits for them to pass him, through the door, and down the hall to the elevator. But when they stall in front of Alfred, the man looks up and finds Arthur smiling at him, though now trying to control his laughter.

"Did you cook the rest of the meal with that toy?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Did you?"

Alfred frowns back at his date but he answers the simple question.

"Chicken Piccata in an Easy-Bake Oven? I'm pretty sure that's impossible."

"So you're saying that you _did_ make me homemade food?"

Alfred's mouth forms a line and he starts to squirm a bit uncomfortably.

"Well... yeah."

"And you bought an expensive bottle of chardonnay, and you also told me elaborate stories of meeting celebrities?"

Alfred bounces on the balls of his feet and answers the question a bit confused.

"Yes?"

"And I'm assuming that you did all of this because you were trying to impress me?"

Alfred's face flares up, and that's answer enough for Arthur. He closes the door quietly, latches the lock, and then turns back to Alfred.

"And on top of everything else, you made me a chocolate cake," Arthur says with a smile but Alfred is still on edge.

"Yeah but it was a sorry excuse for a cake."

"Alfred," Arthur says determinately and the younger man looks up. "If you think that was a horrid cake, wait until you see my cooking."

Alfred's lips perk up a bit and he can't help but ask what's on his mind.

"You're a terrible cook?"

Arthur nods, taking Alfred's hand and leading him back to the kitchen.

"I can't even make cereal without setting the place ablaze."

Alfred chuckles and squeezes Arthur's hand tenderly. They move to stand by the counter where the poor cake is still cooling, and Arthur nudges the plate toward Alfred.

"We all have secrets you know," he says softly, and Alfred turns to regard him. "And if you think I'm going to pass up someone who did a brilliant job of impressing me, then my boy you are terribly mistaken."

Alfred smiles warmly and can't help but think that he made a great choice in asking out the attractive Brit he sat next to on the subway on a random Thursday afternoon. He wants to say something, but before the words can make their way to his lips, Arthur has spoken again.

"You'd better finish frosting. I'm still waiting on my 'homemade devil's food cake with chocolate buttercream frosting,'" he mimics and Alfred sticks his tongue out at him.

"Of course, I'll finish it right up!" Alfred replies eagerly, as his date heads back out to the living room and he starts to stir the frosting once more. "But Arthur!" Alfred calls and sends the Brit a grand smile when he turns his way. "There's no way it'll be as sweet as you."


	26. Spelling Bee

**Title:** Spelling Bee

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Arthur forces Alfred to help him train for the spelling bee.

* * *

><p>"Alfred!" Arthur grunted as his friend slumped over onto his spelling book. "Alfred you can't fall asleep, we have to practice!"<p>

The taller of the two boys moaned and covered an arm over his eyes.

"No we don't. Enough practice."

"Alfred!"

The British boy, clearly not impressed, raised two fingers to his lips and whistled like nobody's business. Alfred immediately held his hands up to cover his ears and was up and off the desk in a matter of seconds.

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" Alfred yelled at his friend, glaring at him. He dropped his hands from his ears and his eyes sagged with tiredness. "I really can't believe you're making me stay inside to practice spelling," he said with a look of disdain. "I could be playing four corners, or tag, or soccer-"

"Football," Arthur cut in and his friend glared at him once more. "Well if you love all that stuff so much, why don't you go?" Arthur asked in a huff. He held his arms akimbo and had a smirk on his lips; he knew what the answer was.

Alfred looked away as his cheeks heated. He couldn't bear to look at his friend.

"Don't make me say it, Arthur!"

"Say it!"

"Arthur!"

"Say it or I'll tell your mum about how that one time you you took a sip of her wine when she wasn't looking!"

Alfred looked mortified. That has been his most prideful moment in his 9 year life, but he knew his mother would throw a fit if she knew. She would let him have grape juice out of one of her fancy cups, but she had scolded him when he once asked for alcohol.

"Fine," Alfred sighed, admitting defeat. His cheeks were still stained pink. "I won't go outside because I like you Arthur Kirkland. I like, like you, not just like you."

Arthur smiled, a smug expression on his face.

"Right, of course you do," he said grinning and tapping the tip of Alfred's nose with a pencil. "And you know I like like you too."

Alfred blushed at this. Whenever he and Arthur talked about how much they like liked each other a tight feeling would swell up in his tummy and he'd feel quite warm inside.

"Tell you what," Arthur said sitting back down next to his friend and taking the spelling book in his hands. "If you help me practice for the spelling bee I'll give you a prize."

He pulled back with another self-assured look, and again Alfred glanced back at him trying not to look too interested.

"A prize?" the boy asked curiously, keeping his eyes on his friend.

"Yes! But only if you help me train for the spelling bee!"

Arthur handed his friend the book and pointed to a column of word on the page.

"All right so you just read the word and tell me if I spell it right, okay?" Arthur instructed with a calmer voice. Alfred rolled his eyes, bored, but nodded his consent.

"Wait, wait, I wanna know what my prize is before we start."

"Fine," Arthur responded sounding annoyed. He looked pensive for a moment before he spoke again. "I'll make it worth your while. For each word I misspell, I'll give you my carton of chocolate milk."

At this, Alfred's eyes widened. In just a matter of seconds he was suddenly more lively and a whole lot more awake.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked with renewed vigor, and immediately read the first word off the list Arthur had pointed to. "The first word is chocolate."

Arthur hummed, then spelled the word easily with a swift wave of his hand.

"C-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e. Chocolate," he smiled, when Alfred nodded. "Honestly, Al, don't start with such an easy word!"

So the American boy scanned the page for a harder one. It would be to his benefit if Arthur messed up after all.

"Spell astronaut," he said looking up, but again Arthur spit it out with lightning speed.

"A-s-t-r-o-n-a-u-t. Astronaut."

Alfred frowned, unimpressed. He wanted his chocolate milk.

"All these words are too easy for you," he said with a complaining tone.

"They're not," Arthur insisted, pointing at the book to get Alfred to start up again. "Come on."

"Fine," Alfred agreed, as he furrowed his brows and scowled at the page. "Okay, spell favorite."

Arthur even had the audacity to laugh at this one, and that made Alfred angry.

"Favourite? You're going easy on me!"

Alfred frowned, and his counterpart smiled. Arthur took in a deep breath and started to spell.

"Favourite. F-a-v-o-u-r-i-t-e," Arthur said smoothly, the letters bouncing off his tongue.

"Wrong!" Alfred yelled and was suddenly fist pumping the air. "You owe me your milk!"

Arthur looked indignant before he grabbed at the book to check his spelling himself.

"No, no, this can't be right," he said as he traced the letters with the pad of his index finger. "No. It must me a misprint. This can't possibly be."

"You spelled something wrong, Arthur, it happens," Alfred said with a grand smile. He'd settled down a bit from his earlier excitement. "And you owe me your milk fair and square."

The Brit for his part huffed and picked up the book.

"We'll see what my mum thinks about this! I'll show her the misprint. She'll tell the school so they don't make a mistake at the spelling bee on Friday."

Alfred sighed as his smile faded away. He could see the obvious frown on his friend's face, and the way his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"All right, you tell her," he said, but then added in a softer tone, "Though I wouldn't mind if you had spelled it wrong."

Arthur stuck his nose in the book and made a point of blatantly ignoring him.

"Hey!" Alfred said, as he tore the book away from his face. "Hey are you listening?"

But Arthur averted his eyes to the floor, still embarrassed over his fumble.

"Fine, Art how about I give you a word that even I can spell? Spell Kiss."

Arthur twiddled his thumbs for a moment then started.

"Kiss. K-i-s-s. Kiss."

He looked at Alfred to ensure he'd spelled it right but was instead met with Alfred lips. In the end he figured that was probably a better prize than the spelling bee trophy would ever be.


	27. In the Rubble

**Title:** In the Rubble

**Warnings:** Angst, Character death

**Summary**: An American soldier struggles to wait out a bombing in his shelter. WW2 AU.

* * *

><p>"Lemme go!" Alfred screamed as he pulled back against the force holding him back.<p>

"Al, would you calm down? Shit, Al stop moving!" A Canadian soldier was holding him back, pinning him to the wall. "Alfred, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

"Then let me go, god damn it!" Alfred continued to squirm as the other soldiers looked on in amusement and others sent him sympathetic looks.

"Someone give me some help here!" the Canadian, Matthew, yelled and another American soldier was quickly up and latching himself on to Alfred.

"Let go of me!" Alfred screamed at the top of his lungs, as the ceiling lamps started to shake. His eyes widened and Matthew and the other soldier took the opportunity to wrestle him to the ground.

"They're back! Everyone get down!"

Matthew clasped a hand over Alfred's mouth to keep him from screaming, but his throat had gone dry. A second round? It couldn't be. He watched in horror as the lights flashed then went out, the sounds of planes flying low, just a few hundred feet above him.

In the darkness the room shook, the sounds of bombings mixed with apprehensive breaths from the Allied soldiers. Alfred couldn't see Matthew but he still felt his fingertips shaking as they struggled to cover his mouth. It went on like that for twenty minutes, everyone was dead silent except for an Australian soldier in the corner that was praying ecstatically. He wanted to live. He wanted to give his daughter away at her wedding.

Alfred was trembling and he struggled to stay still. His stomach was churning and his mind was stirring up horrible thoughts at a mile a minute. A rather large explosion shook the underground bomb shelter and Alfred lost it. His tears started streaming, and he couldn't keep back the choked sobs. This wasn't what he signed up for. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He should be out there killing Nazis, not hiding, scared as child, while they bombed the city above to indiscernible pieces.

Eventually the tremors stopped. In the darkness everything was still, except for the few soldiers releasing sighs of relief. Alfred had wiped away his tears, and Matthew had relinquished his hold. They stood shakily, as someone lit a candle.

"Is it safe to go out?" someone mumbled, but Alfred paid him no mind. In the little candlelight there was, he caught sight of the stairs and ran toward them.

"Damn it, Alfred! Wait!" Matthew yelled, following after him, but another Canadian soldier grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.

"Let him go."

Alfred took the steps two at a time and pushed the door open with all his strength. Debris had been piled in front of it, and as he slipped out of the shelter, he was astounded by all the wreckage that cluttered the ground. He couldn't see far, 40 or 50 yards at best, because smoke had wrapped itself around the city. Alfred turned to his left, looking for any recognizable structure, but all he could make out was a singed union flag flying from a top a burning building.

He wasted no more time, and even though he couldn't see far ahead, he ran in the direction he'd only walked a thousand times before. Left here, right there, walk straight for a hundred yards. Alfred tried not to concentrate on the rubble around him. He tried to ignore the fires, and the moaning from people lying half dead in the street. The sounds only fueled his resolve and he ran faster, not even realizing his tears had started to fall again.

Arthur's building was left in fragments. The ceiling had caved in and only three of the four walls still stood. Shattered glass and concrete littered the floor, but Alfred didn't notice. He was blinded by smoke and tears, as he started digging through the rubble with his bare hands.

Alfred sped up when he saw a tuft of blonde hair sticking out from the wreckage. His hands were cut and dirtied, but he clawed at the rock and debris until the clump of hair lead to a head, and beyond that a tattered body. Alfred pulled his lover from the wreckage, brushing dirt and blood from his face as tears blurred his vision. Arthur's clothes were in shreds, his arms black and bruised, but his eyes closed and he looked peaceful. Alfred took Arthur's wrist in his hands, an asinine hope for what he knew couldn't be.

There came no breath and there came no pulse. But amongst the rubble, Alfred's tears came in droves.

This was not what he'd signed up for.


	28. Will You Accept This Rose?

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Bachelorette. I just thought it'd be a fun idea._

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> Will You Accept This Rose?

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred never thought he'd be cast on a reality show.

* * *

><p>When I turned 20 I dropped out of my local community college and took the first bus to LA. I would hit it big, I knew I would. Billboards would have my face on them advertising some manly deodorant, and teenage girls would have posters of me plastered on their walls. I'd win an Oscar or an Emmy and Alfred F. Jones would become a household name.<p>

Alfred F. Jones would become a household name- but I never did get my Emmy.

I tried out for a dozen roles during my first week in Hollywood. At first I went for bigger roles, thinking I had enough talent to bypass being something like a hand or butt double for a famous celebrity, but I was never successful. Even when I gave up and tried out as an extra they told me I was "too energetic" and that I would "distract from the meaning of the film." To this day I'm still not sure what the meaning was behind the fourth sequel to some crappy car chase movie.

After two months with no luck I was ready to give up. I was on my way out of a studio when I saw a sign posted on the wall that read: "Auditions this way." I took a shot in the dark and followed the arrow not knowing what it was people were even auditioning for, but I thought what the heck? Why not?

Five minutes later I was in a room full of young, chiseled and sweaty guys waiting in chairs for their names to be called. That was when I saw the poster on the wall, advertising the show these guys were auditioning for. I chuckled before I made my way to the front desk to sign up to audition. I thought it'd be worth a few laughs, it never crossed my mind that I'd actually be cast.

"Hey, I'm Alfred," I said shooting a winning grin toward the camera. "I'm 20, from Georgia, and I love barbecuing."

I paused but then the director was waving at me to elaborate, say something that would take the audience's breath away.

"I'm real glad to be here, and I hope I can win Candi's heart with my southern charm."

I shot the camera another smile and waved a bit. Then the director waved the next guy in and I was walking back to house.

So I'd got what I always wanted. I was on TV, making a bunch of money, and I was doing it all on a reality TV show.

"You're back," my roommate looked up at me when I pushed open the door to the room we'd been given in the so called "mansion." I glanced over and found Arthur on his bed with a thick book in his hands. He was a smart guy, and a great actor who was way too good for this role. Sometimes I wondered why he even auditioned, but I never asked.

Arthur, aside from his talent was also great looking. He had a thin frame, but was by no means weak. His eyes were this real pretty shade of green and he had a head of stringy, unkempt hair, but man did it look hot on him.

There was a cough from Arthur, and I fidgeted, realizing I'd been staring.

"Aw shucks, man. I didn't, I mean I hadn't meant to-"

"See anything you like?" Arthur smirked at me as he laid his book down. He motioned me forward with his index finger, and I went to him almost in a trance.

He didn't say anything else, but when Arthur leant in to kiss me, I sure as hell didn't stop him. He brought me down on his bed and we kissed and touched until our third roommate came into the room, effectively stopping us. He looked disgusted, but Arthur just wiped at his mouth and sent the guy the finger. I couldn't help but laugh.

For weeks it went on like that. We'd film the show, charm the girl, and then after hours, Arthur and I would lock ourselves away somewhere and kiss until the next morning. At some point our third roommate had been eliminated from the show and we started sharing a bed, and that's when it was perfect.

Arthur told me about his life. His story was a lot similar to mine; wanted to be a Hollywood hot shot, but didn't quite make it. Now he was doing this gig just to make enough money to fly back to England.

"Dun go back," I mumbled to Arthur from underneath the covers one night. "When this is all over you can come back to Georgia with me."

Arthur chuckled and then kissed my jaw. He didn't answer before he tucked his head into my shoulder and fell asleep.

Weeks blended into months and before I even realized it, Arthur and I were the last two contestants left on the show. They'd shot the semi-final show last week and Candi had saved her last two roses for both of us. Course little did she know that she was the last thing on our minds.

The next day we'd be filming the grand finale. The producer was more than happy with Candi's top two choice, marveling at all the ways it could be branded to get people to watch. The Southern Gentleman vs. The British Gent! Who will steal the bachelorette's heart?

We did the usual dumb stunts and I had a fake fight with Arthur that the director insisted would add extra suspense to the show. We each took Candi out on a date, but I can tell you Arthur was the only thing on my mind the whole time. I think I may have even seemed too uninterested in the gal I was supposedly charming since they made me film some scenes a couple of times. But I couldn't care less, since come nightfall I'd be back with Arthur.

The two of us had never really discussed how we'd handle Candi's decision. I mean we both knew we were supposed to propose to her, but I don't think either of us were really crazy about that idea, acting or not. So when Candi called my name at the end of filming the final episode and presented me with a rose, instead of dropping to my knee to propose, I had a momentary mind lapse. I think my body was moving faster than my brain when I took the rose from Candi, and spun around to present it to Arthur. His face reddened, but he somehow didn't look nearly as shocked as the rest of the cast and crew.

"Arthur, will you accept this rose?" I asked, eagerly, and of course he did. We each leaned forward in time and were kissing, and we continued until a camera guy came over and broke us up. Candi was looking at us with contempt, like she couldn't believe she'd been rejected. The director was coming over now, screaming his head off about how dare I ruin that near perfect take with my shenanigans, blah blah blah. I just laughed as Arthur sent them both the finger.

They made us shoot the scene again since the director insisted _that_ ending couldn't possibly be aired on national TV. It didn't much matter though, since soon enough the alternative ending was leaked, and the footage of Arthur and I making out was plastered all over the internet.

We got calls from a bunch of tabloids, and some of those celebrity talk shows too. Most surprising though, was an offer for both of us to star in an upcoming movie with a gay couple as the leading roles. Needless to say, we were both delighted.

Arthur never moved back to England, but I also never went back to my hometown in Georgia. We moved in together and I quickly learned to love So Cal.

Course it'd obviously be better if they allowed gay marriage here, but I'll wait.

I've got my rose ready.


	29. Have Heart

_Disclaimer: I don't own Build A Bear, but man would that be awesome._

_A/N: This story was written for the USUK anthology over on livejournal which you should check out since it features stories from other lovely writers and artists._

* * *

><p><strong>Titles<strong>: Have Heart

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Arthur takes his little brother Peter to Build A Bear where they meet a rather exuberant employee.

* * *

><p>"Arthur, Arthur! Can we go in there? Please, Arthur?"<p>

Peter pulled eagerly at my sleeve and I couldn't help but smile as he guided me toward one of the many shops in the mall.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes!"

And so with that I let my little brother lead me into one of the "make it yourself" stuffed animal shops. I'll admit, I thought Peter's choice of gift was a bit childish, but I guess that was to be expected from a nine year old. I hadn't seen my brother in a whole two years. I'd been doing some graduate studies overseas in the United States, and it was the first time my parents had agreed to let Peter fly over by himself. Seeing as he was only going to be with me for the remainder of the week, I wanted to treat him well, and if that involved buying him a silly stuffed animal, then so be it.

"Which one do you like?" I asked curiously as Peter looked up and down the row of possible furry friends. Halfway down the aisle he let go of my sleeve and reached into one of the baskets to pull out a plush Dalmatian.

"This one!" he turned to me with a decisive smile and I nodded.

"Well, let's fill her up then."

"_Him_, Arthur," Peter corrected, and I raised a brow. "His name is Spots and he's going to be a doctor!"

I shook my head, but did wind up smiling as we made our way over to the filling station. There were a few other children in the shop, but there was no queue to fill up Peter's stuffed dog. The two of us walked up to a young man with blonde hair and a bright smile sitting on a stool.

"Hey there!" the man greeted enthusiastically as we stopped in front of him. He waved to Peter and then looked up to grin brilliantly at me. To this day, I refuse to acknowledge any sudden impure thoughts I may have had.

"Hey, buddy, I see you have a friend there!" the man commented, a bit overexcited. He was practically another jubilant child in the shop.

"His name is going to be Spots," Peter replied with a smile as he took a step forward. "He's going to be a doctor!" Peter repeated again, and as I rolled my eyes, the other man laughed.

"A doctor? No way! I wish I could be as cool as Spots here is gonna be," he responded with yet another blinding grin. "And what's Spot's owner's name?"

"Peter!" my brother told the man eagerly and I just smiled fondly at the whole scene.

"Well, Peter, my name's Alfred. Can I help you bring Spots to life?" he asked, holding out his hands. Peter nodded eagerly and handed the stuffed animal over to Alfred.

"All right! I'll just fill him right up and then you're gonna have to help me give Spots a heart, ok?"

Alfred smiled and Peter beamed right back at him. It only took Alfred about 45 seconds to fill the toy with stuffing, and then he was handing it back to Peter for what he called a "cuddle test."

"Now squeeze him tight," Alfred instructed and my brother did as told. "Does he feel real soft and squishy?"

"Yes!" Peter replied with a small laugh. At hearing it, Alfred mimicked his laugh but it was much more boisterous, and quite a bit annoying. Peter handed the toy back and Alfred and the man pointed to a small container that was overflowing with a multitude of fabric hearts.

"Go ahead and pick out a heart for Spots!"

Peter reached into the bin and pulled out a soft red heart. He turned and held it up to me.

"Do you think this is a good one, Arthur?" he asked in such an innocent tone that I had to smile again.

"I think it's a lovely choice."

I glanced back at the employee and noticed he was staring at me. However, when I caught his gaze, his eyes went right back to my brother. I did discern a slight pinking to his cheeks, though, even after he'd stopped looking at me.

"All right, so are you ready to put some love in that heart?"

"Yes!"

Alfred put Spots in his lap and sent Peter a thumbs up.

"Okay, so the first thing you have to do with that heart you got there is cup it in your hands and rub it to make it real warm and full of love," Alfred said, miming the action. When Peter completed that the employee grinned and gave him the next directions.

"Now jump up and down three times to show Spots how happy you are!" Peter did. "Spin around three times so he knows how excited you are to have a new friend!" Peter did that as well. Alfred instructed Peter to do a few more silly tasks while I watched in amusement before they came to the last one.

"Great, we're almost done! The last thing you gotta do is hold Spots' heart tight in your hands and make a big wish! When you're done, give the heart a kiss and stick it inside Spots to bring him to life!"

Peter clutched the heart in his hands and as he closed his eyes, a very thoughtful expression crossed his face. He blinked open his eyes, and kissed the heart, but before he placed the heart inside he turned to me.

"Will you give it a kiss too, Arthur? Please?"

How could I say no? I gave the fabric a swift touch of the lips and handed it back to Peter who impatiently stuffed it inside the toy. A second later I realized Alfred was staring at me again, though this time with a soft smile on his face. He tied the plush up and handed it back to Peter who hugged Spots close to his chest.

"Congrats on your new friend! I know he'll be a great doctor!" Alfred chuckled as he grinned at my brother for the last time. Peter nodded his thanks and then headed over to pick out an outfit for Spots. I was about to follow him when Alfred's voice caught me off guard.

"You're from northern England," Alfred said simply, and I won't lie, I was impressed.

"Yes, about twenty minutes outside of York. How'd you know?"

Alfred sent me one of the smiles he'd been giving Peter for the last 10 minutes.

"I took a semester abroad in England just last year and stayed with a host family. They taught me real quick how to pick out Londoners, Northerners, everyone." He grinned. "Northern accents were always my favorite though."

I smirked at Alfred, and he smiled back.

"What a coincidence. I've always thought American accents to be my favorite of the English-speaking world."

Alfred let out another one of his earsplitting laughs, but it didn't bother me nearly as much the second time.

"No way! Should we trade?"

"I'm going to have to pass on that offer," I replied and Alfred almost frowned.

"Aw, why?"

I snickered before I could answer him.

"Don't you know these American women are drooling at my every word?"

Alfred grinned as he got up and stuck his hand into the container of plush hearts. He took one out and handed it to me.

"They're not the only ones."

The two of us exchanged numbers and then Peter was running back to me with Spots all done up in his doctor attire. We both said goodbye to Alfred, but that would not be the last time I'd see him. At our first date, he again presented me with a fabric heart, and he continued to do so at every date thereafter. By the time we'd dated for a full 3 years, I had so many plush hearts I didn't know what to do with myself. But it all worked out in the end, because when Alfred dropped to one knee and offered me a ring, I had a plethora of little fake hearts, but I was finally able to give him my own.


	30. It's My Heart

**Title:** It's My Heart

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Arthur hates meeting the crazy fans who manage to get backstage passes, but this time is different.

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><p>There was a rap at Arthur's dressing room door and he sighed.<p>

_This is the last one of the night. You'll make it._

The singer hated having to meet with the extreme and maniacal fans who always seemed to acquire backstage passes. That evening alone he'd already had to deal with two young girls who could barely formulate a sentence in his presence, and a third who was too vocal for her own good. She'd asked to touch his hand, his face, and even his-

Another rap at the door. Arthur resigned himself to his fate, loosened his tie to be a bit more comfortable, and called out to the waiting party.

"Come in."

He shrugged off his suit jacket as the door opened but when he turned he did not find the 17 year old, caked in makeup and glitter as he had expected. In front of him were two men who looked about 20 or 21. They looked very similar in features, both with dark blond hair and soft looking faces. It wasn't the gender, age, or look of the men, however, that had caught Arthur's attention.

"Is he there, Matt?" the slightly taller one whispered as he let go of the other's arm.

"Yes," the other, the one with shoulder length hair, replied just as softly.

A smile immediately spread across the taller man's face. He took a hesitant step forward, his white cane hitting Arthur's shoe, and then he stopped.

"Sorry!" he said shifting the cane to his other hand and sticking out his palm. "It's really a pleasure to meet you!"

Arthur, suddenly struck dumb, could do nothing but shake the man's hand.

"I'm really a fan of the band. I've been listening to you guys since you came out with your first album!"

"Is that right?" was Arthur's intelligible response. He was used to people telling him they were fans, but this time it felt different.

"You're all great, really. Gilbert is beast on the guitar, and Antonio on the drums, but you've always been my favorite."

Arthur glanced down to where his hand was still linked to the other man's. He made no move to let go, but when he failed to respond, the man released his palm.

"Shit, sorry!" the other apologized again. "I didn't mean to, sometimes I just forget."

"Quite alright," Arthur replied. "What's your name?"

"Alfred!" the man answered in an instant, a smile quickly reappearing on his face. He turned his head and pointed to the other man standing a few steps back. "And that's Matthew. We're twins in case you didn't notice," he added with a laugh.

"You do look very similar," Arthur commented.

"Yeah people tell me that, but I wouldn't know," Alfred said with a smile. Arthur didn't know how to respond.

"Matthew got us tickets as a birthday present. He knows I love you guys and that I've wanted to hear you live since forever," he grinned as he explained. "My mom would never let me go. She always thought I'd get trampled or something by all the fans. Even Matt's offer was conditional on the fact that I couldn't stand in the pit."

"You were on the balcony then?"

"Yup but I wish I could've been closer to you," Alfred chirped, but in a moment his cheeks heated. "To you know, hear you better!"

"Of course," Arthur chuckled. He put a hand on the man's shoulder to reassure him, but instantly removed it when Alfred jerked.

"Sorry!" the both apologized simultaneously. There came a giggle from the corner of the room and Arthur looked up to see Matthew with a hand covering his mouth. He turned back to Alfred to apolgize once more.

"I'm really terribly sorry about that. I shouldn't have-"

"No, don't apologize. Now I can tell people Arthur Kirkland touched me," he said jokingly, and the calm atmosphere returned.

"You could probably make a few quid on ebay for that shirt," Arthur returned with a smile and Alfred laughed. "Would you like me to sign it for you?"

Alfred grinned and his blue eyes widened in excitement.

"Would you do that? Wow, that'd be awesome!"

"Sure."

Arthur walked over to the small desk he'd been sitting at earlier and scoured it for a marker. He eventually found a sharpie and made his way back over to Alfred.

"Anything in particular you'd like me to write?" Arthur asked as he uncapped the marker with his teeth.

"Your phone number," Alfred said with a smirk and Arthur snorted in response.

"Nah, but really," Alfred started up again, more seriously this time. "Could you write: To Alfred," he paused again. "_It's the sun that guides me, the sun that blinds me, but it's my heart that lets me see._"

Arthur glanced up into Alfred's blank eyes, immobilized for a moment. He reached up and removed the marker cap from his mouth.

"Is _Heart_ your favorite song?"

"Yeah," Alfred said with a slight smile. "It's gotten me through a lot."

Arthur kept his eyes on the man as he continued.

"The words just... it feels like you were in my head when you wrote them. You're a great songwriter, Arthur."

Arthur opened his mouth to thank him when there was another knock at the door.

"Time's up!" informed the voice of a security guard. It was the first time Arthur had frowned upon hearing those words. It was also the first time he called out, "Just a few more minutes, Len."

He returned his attention to Alfred.

"I'm going to sign your shirt now, okay?" he warned and Alfred chuckled.

"Alright. I promise not to freak out this time."

Arthur pressed the pen to Alfred's right pectoral and started to write. He penned the message slowly, partially to ensure the script was legible but mostly to secure a few extra seconds with his new friend.

"That should do it," he said after dragging out the processes as long as possible.

"Thanks a lot!" Alfred replied sounding grateful. "It was really nice to meet you."

"The feeling is mutual," he smiled. "Perhaps we can do this again some time."

The man beamed at him before his brother came over and took his arm. Alfred hooked on to Matthew and the two headed for the door. As Arthur heard it latch shut, he wondered how long it would be until he received a call.

Lyrics were not the only thing he'd written on Alfred's shirt.


	31. Say Yes

_A/N: I posted this to my tumblr awhile ago but I completely forgot to post it here. Oops! The lyrics are from a song called "Question" by Old 97's._

* * *

><p><strong>Title:<strong> Say Yes

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Alfred is eager to show Arthur a YouTube video.

* * *

><p>Alfred pushed me down into the swivel chair at his desk and twirled me around to face his giant Mac. He grabbed at the mouse, moving it back and forth eagerly until the screen blossomed back to life.<p>

"Let me just pull it up," Alfred said as he leaned over me to type something into the search bar.

"I swear to God, Alfred, if this is another cat video-"

"It's not, it's not," he laughed and waved me off with his free hand. "I really think you're gonna like it," he assured, scrolling through the results.

"Is it a fan video?" I had to ask. I'd been vlogging on YouTube for about 5 years now and was relatively popular. In fact that was the way I'd met Alfred; he'd posted a video response, and we sort of went back and forth until it was too late. I was smitten with a fan.

He chuckled.

"Well, now that you mention it, it kind of is." He pulled back and revealed a buffering video entitled 'A Question.'

"You gotta tell me what you think of it", Alfred said as the narrow gray bar filled further and the video continued to buffer. When it was finally done he clicked the play button.

"I'm gonna go grab some snacks," he alerted me with a smile, before quickly stepping out of the room and down the stairs of our small townhouse. I noticed that the video was only about two and half minutes in length, which didn't really allow time for snacking, but I'd given up trying to understand my boyfriend quite some time ago.

The video flashed, changing from dormant black to a vibrant blue. White text faded in reading "This video is for someone very special…" before disappearing. Not a second passed before it was replaced with more text: "I have a question for him." The words vanished, just like those before them. "And I hope he says yes."

The entire blue screen faded this time and in it's place played some grainy footage of… me? The clip that was playing was of my first video ever posted to YouTube. How embarrassing it was to watch now.

_"I'm not really sure why I'm doing this," _proclaimed my younger self._ "But who knows,"_ I paused and smiled. _"Maybe something good will come from it."_

And in a second, I too was gone, replaced with black as music started fading in. I turned to the doorway to question Alfred, but he wasn't yet back from the kitchen.

I let my attention drift back to the screen where the music was speeding up and increasing in volume. A soft voice joined the guitar strums, as a young man started singing about a girl he clearly screen remained black, and for a moment I thought something was wrong with the video. That is…

_Someday somebody's gonna ask you_

Until the chorus started…

_A question that you should say yes to_

At which point I was no longer worried…

_Baby, tonight, I've got a question for you._

But in shock.

At first it was my brothers on the screen, all three gathered in a room with Will holding a massive white poster board that read "Say Yes!" They were all smiling and sending me thumbs ups, (with the exception of Phillip who was making inappropriate hand gestures), but before I knew what was going on they were gone and replaced with a new face. Alfred's brother filled the screen, revealing a soft smile, and also holding a piece of paper. "Say Yes," he mouthed and pointed to the the piece of parchment that had the same two words scrawled across it in loose cursive. Eventually Matthew vanished and in his place appeared Francis, an old friend, or perhaps enemy, of mine from university. He too was holding something, a heart-shaped piece of paper that read "Dis Oui." The screen split in two and Gilbert, an old drinking buddy, came into view smiling cheekily and holding up an ipad that was flashing the words "Sagen Ja."

This phenomena continued for the next two minutes, with a new but familiar face appearing on the screen every ten seconds or so. I watched awed as college and sixth form friends, co-workers past and present, relatives and eventually my parents materialized in front of my eyes, each holding something that encouraged me to "Say Yes."

_Baby, tonight, I've got a question for you._

The video wound down and my closest friend appeared on the screen, lip-syncing the lyrics and pointing toward me. I couldn't help but smile at Alfred.

_I've got a question for you._

"Well, Arthur?"

His voice, most definitely not coming from the computer screen, caught my attention and I turned to find Alfred kneeling in the doorway. He reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet box.

"I've got a question for you."

Needless to say, I said yes.


	32. It Would Have Been Perfect

**Title:** It Would Have Been Perfect

**Warnings:** SnK crossover, that in itself is a warning

**Summary:** Alfred's perfect plans are all but ruined.

* * *

><p>That day… it was gonna be perfect. The skies were clear, the birds were singing and we were laughing as I pinned Arthur to the trunk of a tree- well I was laughing, he seemed a bit put off by being pushed into hard bark.<p>

"Ow, Alfred need you be so rough?"

No, the answer was no, but I knew Arthur liked it. I kept my arms steady, one on either side of his torso and leant in and kissed him. It didn't take long for Arthur's shy palms to find my hip, my side, my face. I pulled away and smiled at him, being in one of the happy lovesick highs Arthur put me in. His lips were pulled into a straight line but his cheeks were spotted with pink just like the freckles that were sprinkled over his nose.

I'd always figured Arthur and I would get married. We met when I was five and he was eight. I was a native of Shiganshina, and he, along with his mother, father, and younger brother had moved there from a small village in Maria's eastern district. I would spy on the little boy who was always reading in the house adjacent to our own. He would never come out and play so one day I decided it was my duty to force him outside the walls of his home.

One day, as Arthur sat by an open window, engrossed in a book, I jumped onto the ledge and screamed "Roar! I'm a titan!" He glanced at me, momentarily frightened, but upon realizing I was human, returned to his book. I must have had to do that at least 50 times before his mother pleaded with him to go "Play with the troublesome child outside. Perhaps your quiet nature will rub off on him." I don't think it ever did.

"Roar! I'm a titan!" I repeated, all these many years later and started tickling Arthur. "I'm gonna eat you!" I warned as I started peppering his neck with small kisses and bites. At some point Arthur lost his footing and we fell into the grass beside the base of the tree.

Once his mother was finally able to coerce him outside, I became good friends with Arthur. We weren't in the same year in school, but we would walk to and from the schoolhouse together every day. On weekends we would play together, and what I mean by that is we would alternate between me forcing Arthur to play physical games like tag, and Arthur reading to me by the window where we'd first met. We grew older and as we did, things changed. When I was 12 and Arthur 15, he dragged me to the top of a hill one day and pressed his lips against mine.

"Hmm," he sighed a moment after letting go. "I would have thought it'd be better with how often the boys at school go on about it." If Arthur wasn't pleased at 15, then he sure as hell was now.

Things continued from there. Arthur had kissed me just to know what it felt like, but soon enough I was bringing him back to that hill, asking for more. Amateur kissing turned into curious touches and eventually ended with passionate kisses and warm caresses. Nearly the whole town knew we together, even though an 18 year old Arthur was still shy and outwardly prude. There was nothing to be ashamed of though, really. No one thought lowly of two men in a romantic relationship, rather they were probably glad to see such a couple. If people were honest they'd probably say they were happy to see a relationship with a zero percent chance of procreation; it was one less mouth to feed.

"Any particular reason you brought me up here, my titan?" Arthur asked, and I'd been forced out of my daydream. I looked down at him found myself smiling. The years had been good to Arthur, and at 20 he looked even better than when he'd first kissed me at 15.

"Yes, actually," I answered, nipping at his neck one last time before I pulled myself into a sitting position. Arthur followed suit, and as we sat across from each other on that hilltop, I marveled at the beauty of the sky, and the town, and of course Arthur.

"Arthur, I'm pretty sure you've seen this coming," I said averting my eyes as I fished around in my pocket for the small box I'd bought over three months ago. "But I love you dearly and I'd… I'd like…," I started, withdrawing my hand from my pocket, but when I dared look up, I noticed Arthur wasn't even looking my way. His attention was fixed on something behind me, and whatever it was had him turning a ghastly shade of grey. For a moment I'd thought it was something I'd said and rushed to make right whatever I'd done.

"But obviously, just because you've seen it coming doesn't mean you have to say yes. If you really don't wanna, you don't have to marry me Arthur, I just thought-"

The massive crash came from behind me and my first instinct was to protect Arthur. I leaped over him, covering his body with my own and wondering why on earth the Garrison would shoot a cannon into the most tranquil part of the city.

I waited, the time ticked by painstakingly slow, but impact never came. No cannon ball or bullets hit me and no blood started to flow. After at least a minute had passed, I unfurled, and turned around to look for where the fixed canons were located and where the ball fired had landed. I never did find a canon, what with all the smoke encompassing the wall. What I did see, however, was a giant, skinless titan, standing amongst the grey-brown haze, a massive pile of brick, concrete and other rubble at its feet. When the gears started turning, and Arthur started to scream, I finally made sense of it all.

The wall had been breached. We were going to die.


	33. To the Victor the Spoils

**Title:** To the Victor the Spoils

**Summary:** The title sums it up pretty well.

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><p>It was mid-September by the time I arrived back in the States. I was battered and bruised like no other with a fractured wrist, broken ribs, and a multitude of bullets and pieces of shrapnel still wedged somewhere in my body. But still I was alive, for better or worse, and that's more then I could say for a lot of my men. For every boy who came back to a tearful mother or wife, another came back draped in a flag, and another didn't make it back at all.<p>

I made my way through the crowds to the black car that awaited me. They always sent a black car, but this time it seemed particularly fitting. The streets were decked out in red, white, and blue to welcome the returning soldiers but the atmosphere was dark and bleak. We'd won the war, but at what cost? To the victors the spoils, but what goes to the dead?

A chauffeur approached, took off his hat and saluted me. I returned the gesture, though with my left hand to avoid the fiery pain that would shoot straight up my right wrist if I moved it even a fraction of an inch. For kicks I sent him the brightest smile I could muster.

"Welcome back, Mr. Jones," his tone respectful of my authority even if he was looking into the eyes of a 19 year old boy. He replaced the cap on his head. "It's wonderful to see you in such good spirits."

My smile wasn't even fake that time, wide and genuine at the amusing irony.

"It's great to be back!" I replied, back to faking the bright-eyed teenager. "Japan was hot as hell," though that wasn't the only resemblance it had to Satan's lair, "I missed New England's cool summer nights."

Either no longer interested in me or forced to keep a tight schedule, the chauffeur nodded, ending our conversation, and opened the rear door for me to slip inside.

"I know you must be eager to get home, but there's a visitor waiting to see you so we'll be making a brief stop."

I jutted my lip out and pouted but it hardly mattered. My opinion was worth nothing and so at some point along the line I'd stopped arguing. Nobody cared that I'd seen more than 300 years pass me by. I'd seen does give birth and flowers bloom but I'd also seen men mutilate and kill both their enemies and their friends. But none of that mattered since I looked like a kid, so they'd lock me up with a record player and a radio and tell me to stay out of the way and entertain myself. Imbeciles. All of them.

I'd been expecting to arrive at some US government building, but at about half past two we pulled up to the British consulate of all places. By then I was desperately craving a cigarette. I'd been given a pack on the boat but they hadn't last, and now my fingers were itching for something real and sturdy to hold, and my brain for a few moments of hallucinatory pleasure. I didn't get any of that, though, 'course not. What I did get was an official escort from the car into a private meeting room somewhere in the back of the building and a guest waiting for me there, just as promised.

We looked at each other for a moment as the door closed but neither said a word. Arthur looked like hell. His arm was in a sling, just as it had been in May when I'd last seen him. Wisps of blonde hair peeked out from sterile white bandages that were wrapped around his head and neck. He stood leaning on a crutch, with one leg having been seriously mangled and the other no longer strong enough to support his weight. God, he looked awful, and that was only the outside. I knew too from his letters and a few official reports that he had a punctured lung and several broken ribs. He was a goddamn mess, but even still he somehow managed to stand tall and speak evenly as he pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and tossed them at me.

"Look at me fostering your bad habit." I caught the pack and rolled my eyes, desperately digging through my coat pockets for my state-issued lighter.

"You never were a good guardian," I said sharply, finding the lighter and sticking a smoke between my lips. I brought the flame to my face, and smiled at Arthur. "You look like shit."

For a moment he said nothing, only focusing himself on standing upright and ignoring the pain he was so clearly in.

"I stopped caring about appearances at some point between the Somme and Ypers."

I let loose a laugh, thinking back to an Arthur caked in dirt and mud, cursing the torrential rain that would follow him everywhere. France, Belgium, every last trench had been filled with streams of rain and blood.

"You've grown," Arthur started up again, as I let out a puff of smoke right in his face. He scrunched his eyes shut and wrinkled in his nose in irritation which made me chuckle again. "Perhaps not as much as the rest of us," he continued, opening his eyes a moment or two later after the smoke had cleared, "But I still see it in your eyes."

"You flatter me, babe," I winked at him, taking another drag and letting it loose in a thin stream like a warm breath on a cold day.

"Make jokes, Alfred, but I can tell you've started to internalize everything," he said, voice flat but serious, as he awkwardly started to limp toward his desk. I followed him, half out of curiosity and half out of an intense urge to trip the bastard.

"You think more and speak less," Arthur spoke as he arrived and leaned heavily against the old oak. "You question feeling and wonder if it has any virtue when put side by side with reason and logic." He took a short but clearly painful breath and looked me in the eyes. "You've become mechanized, just like us, and now, as much as I hate to admit it, you've surpassed even me in power and glory."

I wasn't sure how you could measure glory but I kept my mouth shut rather than question the now frail and crumbling British Empire. Giving him a hard time was only fun when I elicited a reaction but I could tell I wasn't gonna get much today.

After a moment of silence in which Arthur was probably hoping I was considering his words and having a deep moment of self-reflection, but I was really wondering when I'd get my next meal, he opened the second drawer from his aged desk and pulled out a ratty old book. It was bound in leather and had some Latin lettered in gold across the top.

"Christ, I just got back and already you're gonna give me a lecture."

Arthur said nothing, just pushed the book toward me with a black and blue hand, before quickly pulling it back to re-balance himself. I shook my head. What a sorry state. If only Queen Victoria could have seen him now, struggling to stand, the dictionary definition of pathetic.

"Fortes fortuna iuvat," Arthur's voice was this time sharp and powerful, as he read off the cover of the ancient tome. "Do you know what that means?"

I didn't. And he knew I didn't.

"Fortune favors the brave." He nodded toward the book, urging me to pick it up. I did, and as I thumbed through the gold-rimmed pages, my eyes widened.

"You are fortunate, Alfred, for you have now been given a great deal of power." Arthur was talking but I was hardly listening, flipping through page after of this textbook, reading words in every language and in hundreds of different people's handwriting. What was this? Some kind of joke? "In your hands lies the ability to write history."

I glanced up at Arthur then, dubious and confused, but his stern bandaged face offered no comfort.

"Whoever holds that book bears the key to humanity's past and future struggles," he said, still calmly, as if this were a simple matter. "I've held the book for many years. In the past many of us have held it: Francis, Antonio, and Sadiq, just to name a few." I blinked at him, still refusing to believe what he was saying. "But each of us, in our attempt to guard the book and maintain power has instead managed to lose it. None of us can now truly say we have what is needed to protect it.

"So the burden falls to you. The United States of America must protect such a treasure at all costs. I've kept it out of Ludwig's hands, and so too you must do with Ivan and anyone else who will come for it."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. My thoughts were moving too fast for my vocal chords to keep up and so they were numbed into function failure. I couldn't even speak after having such a burden placed upon me, and this time I truly did expect to reprimanded, but instead Arthur only smiled.

"History is written by the victors," he said softly, and staring at the shattered form of a man who had once been so great, I suddenly felt like nothing more than a colony once again.

"Think carefully, Alfred, and write. For you have won."


	34. Shifted In Flight

**Title:** Shifted In Flight

**Summary:** My contribution to the 2014 USUK secret santa. My prompt was "accidentally meeting under the mistletoe" which I may have taken some artistic liberties with...

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><p>"If you could direct your attention to the lovely ladies in the aisle for just a moment, they're gonna help me explain the safety features of this Boeing 737," Alfred sucked in a breath as he got ready to deliver the speech he had already given three times that morning, and would give another four times tomorrow.<p>

"To properly fasten your seatbelt, place the metal clip into the buckle. To release, lift up on that very same buckle. Your seatbelt needs to be worn low and tight across your hips," Alfred continued, offering up his best smile as he said, "Just like my Grandma wears her support bra."

He paused for laughs and got a chuckle or two from some young ladies sitting up front.

"Now, if you don't like the jokes or service on this flight, there are six ways off this aircraft, two forward exit doors, two over wing window exits and two rear exit doors. The disco lights on the floor will lead you to these exists.

"If you dig past the day old newspapers and banana peels, you should find a safety information card in the seat back pocket in front of you. Take it out, and if you're in the mood to humor me, go ahead and pretend you're reading it for a few minutes."

Alfred paused for a moment as his two female counterparts ruffled through their props until they came across the most stunning airplane accessory.

"In the event of a water evacuation," Alfred started up again, letting the two ladies slide their life vests over their heads. "Everyone gets their own flattering teenie-weenie yellow Northeast Airlines bikini. Place it over your head, wrap that strap around your waist and pull down on the red tab to inflate. If you like doing things the hard way, or you're just into this kinda thing, go ahead and blow into the red tube at your shoulder and your life vest should inflate."

The two young women who had been laughing before were howling now, yet the stern businessman that sat to their left held firm in his obvious bid not to laugh. There was an elderly women a few rows back that looked absolutely mortified at the sexual innuendo Alfred had loaded into the pre-flight safety speech, but most people were sat with a smile on their face, glad to have someone attempt to brighten the otherwise incredibly dull lecture.

"Flight attendants are now coming by, hoping you'll tell them how good looking they are, and also making sure that your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright and locked positions. Ladies, they'll also be checking that your purses match your shoes and that your lovely Prada and Gucci bags are stored completely under the seat in front of you, leaving you absolutely no leg room.

"Please remember that this is a no smoking, no complaining, and no squabbling flight this afternoon. However, it does happen to be a 'Please' 'Thank you' and 'You are such a smokin' flight attendant' flight. Speaking of smoking, it's never allowed on board. There's a $2,000 fine for tampering with or disabling the lavatory smoke detector so I'm gonna go ahead and ask that you don't do that. If you wanted to pay $2,000 for your airfare, you should've flown someone else."

Did that last joke finally get a chuckle out of businessman Scrooge? Hard to say. As soon as Alfred blinked that familiar scowl was right back in place.

"We don't expect a change in cabin pressure, believe me if we did, I certainly wouldn't have shown up for work today, but if needed, four oxygen masks will drop from the compartment overhead. Pull down on the plastic tubing until its full extended, pull the mask over your nose and mouth and breathe normally.

"If you're traveling with small children… I'm sorry." Cue additional laughter. "But if you _are_ traveling with someone who needs assistance, go ahead and secure your mask first before helping anyone else."

"Well, that's it for the spiel, so sit back and relax, or sit up and be tense, it's totally up to you, and enjoy your 3 hour and 48 minute flight into sunny Orlando, Florida. My name is Alfred, and on behalf of our flight crew and everyone at Northeast Airlines, welcome aboard!"

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><p>It was half past eleven when Alfred finally had his key in the lock to his apartment. What he didn't quite expect as he started to turn the key, was for the door to open on its own, or to find his boyfriend standing there in one of his old Michigan State hoodies and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms.<p>

"Arthur, what are you doing up?" he asked with a grin as he leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. Arthur ruffled a bit but eventually accepted the gesture.

"I haven't seen you in almost a week," the shorter man replied as Alfred made his way to their shared bedroom. Arthur followed and watched as Alfred swiftly unbuttoned his uniform shirt and tight black slacks. "I made one of the frozen lasagnas you like for dinner. You can heat it up in the microwave whenever you're ready."

Alfred beamed, and though he was exhausted from 10 consecutive hours of flight, he bounded over to his boyfriend in nothing but his white tube socks and matching briefs.

"You're the best," he told Arthur as he placed a palm on each side of the man's face. He leaned in and placed a brief but sweet kiss on his boyfriend's lips. As he pulled away and Arthur's eyes we're just fluttering open, he smiled again and said, "Why haven't I married you yet?" Arthur blushed in response and averted his eyes to the floor.

Alfred pulled on a pair of Batman pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt before scurrying back to the kitchen, Arthur not far behind. As the off duty flight attendant removed the leftovers and stashed them in the microwave, his boyfriend went about preparing himself a cup of tea.

"Alfred," Arthur said at some point and the man in question was able to tear his eyes away from the timer on the microwave for just long enough to hum in response. "Alfred, I was wondering if this Christmas we might…" He seemed uncertain as he poured hot water from the electric kettle into a mug and wrapped his hand around it. "If we might be able to spend Christmas together this year," he finished, still looking uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot, looking up hesitantly at his boyfriend.

The microwave beeped but Alfred didn't take his eyes off of the man in front of him. It was unusual for Arthur to ask for anything so sentimental, and it made it that much more difficult for Alfred as he squeezed his boyfriend's shoulder and replied.

"Oh baby cakes, your timing is terrible. We just filled out December shift schedules last week and I figured since I get the overtime and we're saving up for that trip to visit your parents you wouldn't mind."

It felt like a punch to Alfred's gut as Arthur frowned and shrugged the man's hand off his shoulder. He turned his back to Alfred as he went about disposing of his teabag and adding a bit of cream to his tea. He held his head high but his voice sounded small as he said, "I really wish you'd consulted me first."

"Arthur…" Alfred tried his best to sound contrite and consoling but it didn't seem to have much effect. "Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know it'd bother you so much. I mean you spent last Christmas alone when I had to work and everything was fi-"

"It's not fine, Alfred! It's never been fine!" Arthur had angrily turned to face him, and in doing so, some of the tea had sloshed out of his mug. Neither of them mentioned this though as Arthur was concentrating all of his energy on an effective glower and Alfred was struck dumb by the fact that his very rarely expressive boyfriend was crying.

"Chickadee…" Alfred tried again, pulling out a term of endearment he only ever used when Arthur was visibly distressed or in pain. Arthur stilled at that, and did not back away as Alfred moved closer. "My little chickadee," Alfred said softly as he gently peeled Arthur's wet fingers off the mug one by one. He eased the mug onto the counter as he took a rag and started to wipe off his boyfriend's hand in tender strokes. "What's wrong?"

Arthur bit his lip but did not resist as Alfred wrapped his arms around him, rocking them gently back and forth. They stayed like that for a moment, Alfred silent as a lamb and Arthur's breathing easing out over time. At long last Arthur sighed as he rested his head on Alfred's shoulder.

"This is what's wrong, Alfred," he said quietly, still gloomy but not quite as uncertain. "That I haven't seen you in a week and the moment I do, I lash out at you."

"Arthur," Alfred tried, but was silenced.

"No, Alfred, it's true. I only get to see you once, twice a week at best? Most nights I go to bed alone and I don't even know what time zone you're in…" The shorter man paused there and leant up to find his boyfriend staring at him intently. He blinked and looked away, his voice becoming little more than a whisper as he said, "I love you, Alfred, but this is weighing on me. I… I don't think I can do it anymore."

They stood there silently, Alfred no longer rocking them to-and-fro as he was now the one in distress. After a minute, maybe two, Alfred wasn't sure how long he'd taken to digest those words, he spoke up.

"A-Are you breaking up with me?"

For a while Arthur said nothing and Alfred's heart sank at the fact that Arthur hadn't immediately denied the statement. But eventually he did speak, in that not-quite posh but still refined accent that Alfred didn't realize he loved so much until he was presented with the possibility of losing it.

"I can't take the lonely nights anymore, Alfred," he said quietly, clearly uncomfortable for having to admit such a weakness. He looked up at the American as if he would have some sort of solution for this, but of course he didn't. Part of being a flight attendant meant sleeping in strange rooms, on strange beds, by yourself, at least four nights a week. As much as he wanted to voice a solution, when he opened his mouth, nothing came out, and Arthur smiled sadly as Alfred clamped his mouth shut.

"I'm sorry, Alfred, I… I hope you understand."

"I understand," Alfred found himself replying almost breathlessly, yet he made no move to let go of Arthur as the circumstances seemed to imply he should.

"I think we should… stay together until the end of the holidays, for convenience's sake. That should give you enough time to," Arthur paused to exhale. "To find a new place to live."

Alfred nodded, like a robot or a doll, even as inside his heart was telling him to argue, to make some sort of promise he knew he wouldn't be able to keep. He couldn't do that to Arthur. He hadn't known he was hurting and he certainly didn't want him to go through that again. So he swallowed his true feelings and squeezed Arthur just a little tighter as he breathed, "Alright."

That night, as he slept in the guest bedroom, on a strange bed, by himself, Alfred desperately tried to think of a way to fix everything before the end of the holidays.

* * *

><p><em>December 25<em>_th __7:00 AM_

"I'm heading out now," Alfred told his boyfriend-turned-roommate as he slipped on a festive Santa hat before heading toward the door. Arthur appeared in a dark red robe, one that Alfred had given him as a Valentine's Day gift last year, along with a few other less than savory gifts.

"Where are you going today?" Arthur asked in mild interest, stopping in front of Alfred to pick a piece of dust off his uniform. It seemed odd that Arthur still did things like adjusting his tie, or patting down his hair, but Alfred didn't dare question it. He kept each strange gesture in a mental box labeled 'Hope' that he reached into whenever he was feeling doubtful about his plan. But today was the day, and he prayed that Arthur's mindless ministrations weren't so mindless.

"I've got an 8:45 to Chicago, a 1:30 to Dallas, a 5:15 to Oklahoma City and then a 7:30 to San Diego."

"Ending Christmas in sunny San Diego?" Arthur said with an ever-so-small smile splayed across his face. "I don't suppose you could box up some of the warmth and send it over?"

Alfred let out a jolly laugh and grinned.

"I'll send some overnight."

"Brilliant."

Alfred stood there, staring, racking his brain for something else he could use to continue the conversation, anything. But before he knew it, Arthur was checking the time on the DVR and saying, "You'd better get going if you're to make that 8:45 flight."

"Right!" Alfred grinned, extending the handle of his trusty carry on and unlocking the door. "I'll be back late on the 27th," he said as he opened the door. His roommate nodded as he made a mental note. At that point Alfred probably should have stepped over the threshold and out of their apartment, but something was stopping him. He almost wanted to lean in for a goodbye kiss but he knew that certainly wasn't on the table. It hadn't been for at least a month, but hopefully by the end of today…

"Merry Christmas, Arthur," he decided on at long last as he stepped through the doorway and into the hallway.

"Merry Christmas, Alfred," he heard in reply as he walked toward the elevator, a shy smile appearing on his face.

* * *

><p><em>December 25<em>_th__ 9:00 AM_

The two hours in-between leaving Arthur and initiating his plan were some of the longest of Alfred's life. Still, he had to make sure Arthur thought he was well and truly gone on his way to Chicago or wherever it was he'd listed off in a fit of improvisation. But by now he should have been gone and Arthur would most definitely not be expecting him to knock on the door to their apartment, changed into a warm wool sweater Arthur had lovingly knitted him two Christmases ago that he knew Arthur loved to see him wear.

"Alfred?" Arthur asked, visibly puzzled, as he pulled the door open wider than just a crack and stared at his ex-boyfriend in clear confusion. "What are you doing here?" He glanced at one of the clocks and then back at Alfred. "Did you miss your flight?"

"I didn't have one," Alfred said, trying to sound as confidant as possible even as his heart was pounding a mile a minute just like the time he'd first asked Arthur out.

"Didn't have one?" Arthur asked befuddled. "But you just told me an hour ago-"

"Back in October," Alfred cut him off, and Arthur was apparently so at a loss that he didn't even berate Alfred for doing so. "Just after we… you know." It was still hard for Alfred to say "broke up" aloud. That made it feel too real. "I put in for a transfer, from flight attendant to gate agent."

"Gate agent?" Arthur repeated, his eyes widening just a fraction as if he thought he understood the implications of that term but didn't dare get too excited on the off chance he was wrong.

"Yes, a gate agent. You know, the person who pisses people off by making gate change announcements and scans boarding passes as people get on the plane? The person who doesn't board along with them? The person who can go home to their amazing boyfriend, every night?"

"Alfred?" Arthur whispered, confused and still non-believing even as his eyes now widened to the size of dinner plates.

"They made the transfer two weeks ago. I've been living in the Motel Six down the street to keep up the charade until now. I wanted to surprise you."

"Oh, Alfred…" Arthur spoke softly as he closed his eyes and frowned, but Alfred recognized it as that happy sort of frown- the kind Arthur pulled when he wanted to smile but he couldn't because he was upset with Alfred.

For his part, Alfred took the opportunity while Arthur had his eyes closed to dig around in his pocket for the small sprig of mistletoe that he'd kept hidden away since he'd left that morning. He held it above their heads and hoped for the best.

"Arthur," he said, and waited for the man to open his eyes before he used his free hand to point to the small plant. Then he leant in, as nervous a teenage boy on his first date, and met Arthur's trembling lips, hoping to kiss away the worry. For a moment he was terrified as Arthur made no response, but then slowly, gradually, Alfred felt the kiss being returned, and he let his shoulders sag as he pulled away with a small smile. Arthur had a tear dribbling down his right cheek, but this time Alfred was sure it was because he was happy rather than sad.

"Arthur, I love you and I've missed you, and I never want you to feel sad or lonely ever again," he spoke tenderly as he brought his arm down and wiped away the tear that had made its way to Arthur's chin. "So if you still want to spend Christmas with me, heck, if you still want to be with me, I would be honored, because there is nothing I want more than to spend Christmas with you, Chickadee."

By then several tears had made their way down Arthur's face, and even a little dribble of goo was leaving Arthur's nose to join them, but Alfred didn't mind because Arthur was nodding his head 'yes' over and over and that's all he needed to know.

"Merry Christmas, Arthur," Alfred whispered as he gathered the man in his arms, tears, mucus, and all.

"Merry Christmas, Alfred," came the mumbled reply from the man he would never have to leave again.


End file.
